He let his eyes dwell on her. It was easy to see how undisciplined
of life she was, save where its material aspects had come into
impact with her on the economic side.

"None of your real friends."

"How many real friends has a man--friends who will stand by him no
matter how unpopular he is?"

"I don't know. I should think you'd have lots of them."

He shook his head, a hint of a smile in his eyes. "Not many. They
keep their chocolate and sandwiches for folks whose trolley
do'esn't fly the wire."

"What wire?" she asked, her forehead knitted to a question.

"Oh, the wire that's over the tracks of respectability and vested
interests and special privilege."

She had been looking at him, but now her gaze went to the fire
with that slow tilt of the chin he liked. Another color wave swept
the oval of the soft cheeks.

"You've got more friends than you think," she said in a low voice.

"I've got one little friend I wouldn't like to lose."

She did not speak and his hand moved forward to cover hers.