The Sun was a naked flame jeweling the sky. The trees of the little Park were shrill with green and the moisture sang on them like tinkling glass.
Tom came in. David said to him:
“Tom, I think I want to go away and live alone.”
Tom was haggard in the sunlight. His eyes were hot and rimmed in shadows.
He nodded. “Of course, Davie,” he said. “Go now, if you want to. I shall be glad to keep the place.”
The two friends looked at each other. David wanted to take Tom’s hand: he wanted to cry. Tom stood there, stiff, graceless for once, and did not help him....
Thus easy it had come like leaves on the tree in Spring; like Sun out of the mists of dawn. David thought very little about it.
He went on going to see Helen. He took his trunk and his books and his violin and moved them into an ample furnished room on the West Side. He was to have a bathroom of his own. He would be comfortably fitted out.
On the last day, he held out his hand. He said:
“My trunk will be called for to-day, Tom. I have taken a room.” He gave Tom the address which he had written on a piece of paper.