Phil Gallatin took his arm and walked out on the terrace.
“I—I’m a d—— fool, Bibby, pretty poorly masked,” he muttered heavily.
“You are, my boy. But it takes a wise man to admit he is a fool. Glad you know it. Awfully glad. Not sore, are you?”
“No,” said Gallatin slowly. “Not in the least.”
“Nothing like the crash of glass—to awake a fellow. Feel all right?”
“Yes, I—I think so.”
“I had a lot of nerve to do a thing like that, Phil, but you see——”
“I’m glad you did. I—I won’t forget it, Bibby.”
The two men clasped hands in the darkness in a new bond of friendship.