"And what have you been doing with yourself?" he asked. "How have you
been occupied, and what are you meaning to do?"

Bernard said nothing for a moment, and Gordon presently glanced at
his face to see why he was silent. Bernard, looking askance, met his
companion's eyes, and then, resting his own upon them, he stopped short.
His heart was beating; it was a question of saying to Gordon outright,
"I have been occupied in becoming engaged to Angela Vivian." But he
could n't say it, and yet he must say something. He tried to invent
something; but he could think of nothing, and still Gordon was looking
at him.

"I am so glad to see you!" he exclaimed, for want of something better;
and he blushed--he felt foolish, he felt false--as he said it.

"My dear Bernard!" Gordon murmured gratefully, as they walked on. "It
's very good of you to say that; I am very glad we are together again.
I want to say something," he added, in a moment; "I hope you won't
mind it--" Bernard gave a little laugh at his companion's scruples, and
Gordon continued. "To tell the truth, it has sometimes seemed to me that
we were not so good friends as we used to be--that something had come
between us--I don't know what, I don't know why. I don't know what to
call it but a sort of lowering of the temperature. I don't know whether
you have felt it, or whether it has been simply a fancy of mine.
Whatever it may have been, it 's all over, is n't it? We are too old
friends--too good friends--not to stick together. Of course, the rubs of
life may occasionally loosen the cohesion; but it is very good to feel
that, with a little direct contact, it may easily be re-established.
Is n't that so? But we should n't reason about these things; one feels
them, and that 's enough."