We fell to talking about work. He said he hoped that I had a good manager ... agreed very heartily with me about Frohman, saying he was always so fair—more than fair.
"What a wonderful life you've had, haven't you?" I exclaimed, thinking of it all in a flash.
"Oh, yes," he said quietly ... "a wonderful life—of work."
"And there's nothing better, after all, is there?"
"Nothing."
"What have you got out of it all.... You and I are 'getting on,' as they say. Do you ever think, as I do sometimes, what you have got out of life?"
"What have I got out of it?" said Henry, stroking his chin and smiling slightly. "Let me see.... Well, a good cigar, a good glass of wine—good friends." Here he kissed my hand with courtesy. Always he was so courteous; always his actions, like this little one of kissing my hand, were so beautifully timed. They came just before the spoken words, and gave them peculiar value.
"That's not a bad summing-up of it all," I said. "And the end.... How would you like that to come?"
"How would I like that to come?" He repeated my question lightly yet meditatively too. Then he was silent for some thirty seconds before he snapped his fingers—the action again before the words.
"Like that!"