Andy grinned, ducked his head, and made his exit into the house as though propelled or drawn by some unseen agency. When I remarked this to Dick he replied, "Some spirit draws him, I dare say."
Dick had not said a word beyond advising me not to lose my temper. He did not appear to take any notice of my lecture to Andy, and puffed unconcernedly at his cigar till the driver had disappeared. He then took me by the arm and said:—
"Let us stroll a bit up the road." Arm in arm we passed out of the town and into the silence of the common. The moon was rising, and there was a soft, tender light over everything. Presently, without looking at me, Dick said:—
"Art, I don't want to be inquistive or to press for any confidences, but you and I are too old friends not to be interested in what concerns each other. What did Andy mean? Is there any girl in question?"
I was glad to have a friend to whom to open my mind, and without further thought I answered:—
"There is, Dick!"
Dick grasped my arm and looked keenly into my face, and then said:
"Art! Answer me one question—answer me truly, old fellow, by all you hold dear—answer me on your honour!"
"I shall, Dick! What is it?"
"Is it Norah Joyce?" I had felt some vague alarm from the seriousness of his manner, but his question put me at ease again, and, with a high heart, I answered:—
