“Hey, Bert!” shouted Ken, delighted, for he had feared he would not see his friend again before he sailed. Bert came out of the door, half shaved, with a towel about his neck, and shook hands after the manner of healthy young men.
“Howdy, old-timer! Gosh! it seems good to get back to you and Arlette. How have things been going without me? Seen Madeleine?”
“Haven’t seen her. Things have been going all right till to-day. This morning the blow fell.”
“What blow?... You look as if somebody had stolen your pet goat.”
“I’m ordered to America. Leave Wednesday.”
“The devil!... Oh, say, that’s rotten luck! What’s the idea?”
“Don’t know. Just my confounded luck, I expect.”
“Wait a minute till I finish this shave and I’ll help you weep.... How’s Andree?”
They were walking back to Bert’s room, and Ken did not answer until his friend stood before the glass, razor in hand.
“She’s all right.”