"Half a chance," he repeated, vaguely,—"half a chance at what?"
"You used to know well enough," cried the other. "Damn it, are my affairs so soon forgotten?"
"I thought you had forgotten them yourself. It is a long time since you went away, you know," replied Anderson, scarcely above a whisper. Drops of sweat glistened on his face.
"A long time,—yes, I know," murmured Hemming.
Presently he said: "Dick, you have not answered my question."
Anderson cleared his throat, fingered his moustache, and glanced about uneasily. But he made no reply.
"You don't think I have any chance? You think she does not care for me?" questioned Hemming, desperately.
He reached over and gripped his friend's wrist with painful vim. "Tell me the truth, Dick, and never mind my feelings," he cried.
Anderson withdrew his arm with a jerk.
"Can't you see? Are you such a damn fool!" he muttered. "You come along, after you have had your fun, and expect me to produce the joyous bride,—the blushing first-love."