“Gordy,” he said quickly, “I’ve thought the whole thing over carefully and I’ve decided that I can’t lend you that money. I’d like to oblige you, but I don’t feel I ought to—it’d put a crimp in me for a month.”
Gordon, watching him dully, wondered why he had never before noticed how much those upper teeth projected.
“I’m—mighty sorry, Gordon,” continued Dean, “but that’s the way it is.”
He took out his wallet and deliberately counted out seventy-five dollars in bills.
“Here,” he said, holding them out, “here’s seventy-five; that makes eighty all together. That’s all the actual cash I have with me, besides what I’ll actually spend on the trip.”
Gordon raised his clenched hand automatically, opened it as though it were a tongs he was holding, and clenched it again on the money.
“I’ll see you at the dance,” continued Dean. “I’ve got to get along to the barber shop.”
“So-long,” said Gordon in a strained and husky voice.
“So-long.”
Dean, began to smile, but seemed to change his mind. He nodded briskly and disappeared.