As I went down the steps George joined me, and walked with me to the car line. The look on his face brought to my memory the night I had seen him staring moodily across the roses and lilies at Sally's bare shoulders, and the same fierce instinct of possession gnawed in my heart.
"Look here, Ben, I can't bear to think of the way things are going with Sally," he said.
"I can't bear to think of it myself," I returned gloomily.
"If there's ever anything I can do—remember I am at your service."
"I'll remember it, George," I answered, angry with myself because my gratitude was shot through with a less noble feeling. "I'll remember it, and I thank you, too."
"Then it's a bargain. You won't let her suffer because you're too proud to take help?"
"No, I won't let her suffer if I have to beg to prevent it. Haven't I just done so?"
He held out his hand, I wrung it in mine, and then, as I got on the car, he turned away and walked at his lazy step back along the block. Looking from the car window, as it passed on, I saw his slim, straight figure moving, with bent head, as if plunged in thought, under the electric light at the corner.