Mar. Ha, ha, Si! You need not fear. When I said our Nancy, I meant our girl——help, you understand.
Simon. Oh! Ah! Then you are one of the family.
Mar (confused). Well, no. Not exactly.
Simon. Oh, I see. Don’t blush, but I’m sure I must be in the way. I’ll come again (starts for door).
Mar (detaining him). Simon, stop. If you leave this room we are enemies.
Simon. But, Mark, I might blast your prospects, were it known that you and I——
Mar. Were friends, dear friends; that you were the only one who reached out a helping hand to me a destitute stranger, when I entered yonder city, five years ago.
Simon. None of that, Mark. Don’t be shabby; helping hand, indeed, to a loft in the sixth story, a bed on a heap of rags, and dry bread washed down with water.
Mar. Divided your substance with me. Sim, when I forget your kindness, may I be as hungry as I was then.
Simon. Yes; but, Mark——