“No.”
“You understand how it is?”
“Sure.”
“You’re the besh pal a guy ever had. The first time I socked you, I knew I liked you, jush like shakin’ hands with a guy, shock him on the jaw an — awrigh’, let’s go home.”
I got him out to the sidewalk, steadied him down the street, and into the jalopy. Halfway out to the cabin, the enormity of his embezzlement struck him. He wanted to get out of the car. “Lemme out, buddy. I ain’t fit to ride in the same car with you. I can’t face Miss Helen. Know what I did? I stole your money. I knew you didn’t have much, too — just some money you’d saved up — an’ I stole it. I wanna get out — serves me right if I hit my head and die. I ain’t no good. I been hit too much anyway. I ain’t got no — ain’ got no self-control.”
I put my hand on the arm that was over on the side nearest the door. His hand was fumbling with the catch. “Forget it, Louie,” I said, driving the rattling car with one hand. “We aren’t any of us perfect. I’ve got my faults, too.”
“You mean you forgive me?”
“Sure.”
“No hard feelings?”
“No hard feelings.”