"It's a mistake, Ted," Knowlton came back. "It isn't true. The fellow who said that was trying to conceal bankruptcy with a little window-dressing."
"Knowlton," I stammered, making a desperate effort, "I—I—"
He cut in on me. "Thanks, Ted. I like you too. Let's let it go at that," and he threw away his cigarette stub and went in to the ballroom. I sat and wondered at the hint of tragedy the always smiling Knowlton had shown me. "After all," I reflected, "he is still young." "Ah, but he is not a kid, don't you see?" my old annoyer Reason interjected. "That's the point." I lit another cigarette. "I wonder why it is great to be a kid?" I asked. Reason was prompt with a reply, "Because kids enjoy everything without stopping to think."
I looked up, to see Helen in the doorway, surrounded by formally attentive swains.
"Ted," said Helen coming up to me. "This is our dance. How could you?"
It was the first time I had ever been conscious of hurting her, and I was truly contrite. I explained about Knowlton as we danced around the room.
"The poor old dear," said Helen. "You would never guess it from those adorable crow's feet of his."
"Knowlton isn't old," I objected, almost shocked.
"Well," Helen went on, "he's almost middle-aged."
But we soon changed the subject, for we had more important things to talk about.