“Then it’s all ‘talk’ about our being partners,” she said, sneeringly. “You don’t mean a word of it.”
“You shan’t make a fool of yourself, Katie, if I can help it,” he retorted.
“Because you don’t care for friends, you don’t want me to have any!” she flung at him hotly.
He was silent a long time, thinking, while she waited angrily, then he responded quietly and with obvious effort:
“That’s where you’re mistaken, Katie. If I have one regret it is that in the past I have not more deliberately cultivated the friendship of true men and gentle women when I have had the opportunity. It doesn’t make much difference whether they are brilliant or rich or successful, if only they are true-hearted. Loyalty is the great attribute—but,” and he shrugged a shoulder, “it is my judgment that you will not find it in that quarter.”
“You’re prejudiced.”
“It is my privilege to have an opinion,” he replied coldly.
“We were going to be friends—Mrs. Toomey and I—we shook hands on it!” Tears of angry disappointment were close to the surface.
He replied, doggedly:
“If you have to buy your friendships, Katie, you’d better keep your money.”