“You have one?”
“I shall buy one.”
“Didn’t you come here armed?”
“No.”
Drene looked at him very intently. But Graylock had never been a liar. After a few moments he went over to his desk, replaced the weapon under the papers, and, still busy, said over his shoulder:
“All right. You can go.”
VI
He wrote to Cecile once:
Hereafter keep clear of men like Graylock and like me. We’re both of a stripe—the same sort under our skins. I’ve known him all my life. It all depends upon the opportunity, the circumstances, and the woman. And, what is a woman between friends—between such friends as Graylock and I once were—or between the sort of friends we have now become? Keep clear of such men as we are. We were boys together.