"I'm afraid I forgot all about you, Ansolini," he said, "but that girl I ran into is a—a Miss Landry, whom I have known a long—"
I put my hand on his shoulder for a moment and said:
"I think I am not so dull, my friend!"
He made a blue flash at me with his eyes, then smiled and shook his head.
"Yes, you are right," he answered, re-beginning his fast pace over the carpet. "It was she that I meant in Lucerne—I don't see why I should not tell you. In Paris she said she didn't want me to see her again until I could be—freiendly—the old way instead of something considerably different, which I'd grown to be. Well, I've just told her not only that I'd behave like a friend, but that I'd changed and felt like one. Pretty much of a lie that was!" He laighed, without any amusement. "But it was su
