"Don't suppose you would, no. Still, we're friends, aren't we?"
"Do you feel friendly to me?"
"Friendly! Well——!" He laughed. "What do you think about it yourself?" he asked. "Look here, I don't bother you, but I'm here when you want me."
"When I want you?"
"I mean, if I can do anything for you, or—or advise you. I don't think I'm a fool, you know."
"I'm really glad to hear you've got as far as that," she remarked rather tartly. "Your fault, Bob, is not thinking nearly enough of yourself."
"You'll soon change that, if you say much more." His pleasure in her implied praise was obvious, but he did not read a single word more into her speech than the words she uttered.
"And you are friendly to me—still?"
"It doesn't make any difference to me whether I see you or not——"
"What?" she cried. The next moment she was laughing. "Thanks, Bob, but—but you've a funny way of putting things sometimes." She laid her hand on his arm for a moment, sighing, "Dear old Bob!"