"I don't. There was never anything surer than that. Give me your hand—chum."
She gave it. "All right—chum."
He had pulled off his own glove; he now gently drew off hers, and the two warm hands clasped. "Here's our everlasting friendship," he said, with a little thrill in his low voice. "Nothing shall come between us except—love."
"Jimps! That's not the old compact at all."
"It's the new one then. Isn't it sufficiently ambiguous to suit you?"
"It's much too ambiguous."
"I can make it plainer——"
"Perhaps you'd better leave it as it is," she admitted, recognizing danger.
"As you say."
He held her hand for a minute in such a close grasp that it hurt her, but she did not wince. Ah! if she might just have this pleasantly satisfying relation with the man whose presence in her life meant warmth and light and even happiness on the hard road of everyday routine, and then have somehow besides the contentment which comes of accomplishment along a line of chosen activity—and still remain free for whatever God in heaven might send her of real joy, she could ask no better.