She straightened; dried her eyes. "Stop that, Grant!" she said peremptorily. "Stop it!"
His eyes sank. "I can't bear to see you suffer."
"You don't mean a word of what you've just said," she went on. "You are all upset, as I am. You are his friend and mine." Defiantly: "And I love him, and you know I do."
It was the tone of one giving another something that must be repeated by rote. "That's it," said he, somewhat sullenly, but with no hint of protest. "I'm all unstrung, like you, and like him."
"And you will forget that you saw me crying."
"I'll never think of it again."
"Now go and bring him, please."
He went quickly toward the door.
"Grant!" she cried. As he turned she rose, advanced with a friendly smile and put out her hand for his. "Thank you," she said. "You have shown yourself OUR best friend."
"I meant to be," he answered earnestly, as he pressed her hand. "When I pull myself together I think you'll realize I'm some decenter than I've seemed of late."