"Keith!"
Keith took his hand with a grip that drove the blood from the ends of Norman's fingers.
"Norman!"
Norman drew a chair close to his desk, and Keith sat down. Norman sank into his, looked down on the floor for a second, then, raising his eyes, looked full into Keith's eyes.
"Keith--?" His voice failed him; he glanced away, reached over, and took up a paper lying near, and the next instant leant forward, and folding his arms on the desk, dropped his head on them, shaken with emotion.
Keith rose from his chair, and bending over him, laid his hand on his head, as he might have done to a younger brother.
"Don't, Norman," he said helplessly; "it is all right." He moved his hand down Norman's arm with a touch as caressing as if he had been a little child, but all he said was: "Don't, Norman; it is all right."
Suddenly Norman sat up.
"It is all wrong!" he said bitterly. "I have been a fool. I had no right--. But I was mad! I have wrecked my life. But I was insane. I was deceived. I do not know even now how it happened. I ought to have known, but--I learned only just now. I can never explain. I ask your pardon humbly."
Keith leant forward and laid his hand upon him affectionately.