"You are then obliged to live in a world of suspicion."
"No. Rather in a world of security. How often has the knave paraded under the banner of innocence! The greatest thieves wear golden chains."
"I could not live after such manner."
She became impatient.
"Were you thrown into daily relation with the world you would soon learn the art of discrimination. The trusty sentinel lives a life of suspicion."
At length a truce was silently proclaimed. Composure reigned. The unpleasant episode had to all appearances been obliterated from their minds. There was even a touch of that old humor dancing in her eyes.
"Some one has said," she observed, "that 'suspicion is the poison of friendship.'"
"And a Latin proverb runs, 'Be on such terms with your friend as if you knew he may one day become your enemy.' Friendship, I realize, is precious and gained only after long days of probation. The tough fibers of the heart constitute its essence, not the soft texture of favors and dreams. We do not possess the friends we imagine, for the world is self-centered."
"Have you no friends?"
Now she smiled for the second time, but it was only a smile of humor about the corners of her mouth.