yawn.

He stepped down to the floor from his perch on the table, stretched
his arms, looking affably all the while at Graylock, who had never
moved a muscle.

"I believe you had a run-in with that Cecile girl once, didn't you,
Graylock? Like the rest of us, eh? Oh, well--my hat off to old Drene
if he wins out. I hold no malice. After all, Graylock, what's a
woman between friends?"

And he nodded gaily at Graylock and sauntered leisurely to the
window.

And kept his back turned, fearful of exploding with laughter in the
very face of the man who had been staring at him out of pale,
unchanging eyes so steadily and so long.

Guilder's patient, bored, but moderate voice was raised once more:

"In regard to the letting of these contracts--"

But Graylock, staring at Quair's back, neither heeded nor heard him,
for his brain was still ringing with the mockery of Quair's
words--"What is a woman between friends?" And now, for the first
time, he was beginning to understand what the answer might be.



III