feiting my friendship. Let them think it. Let them say it."
"But," protested Barry, weakly, "it ought to be denied."
"What does it matter?" she replied. "You know it's a lie, because I've told you so. What difference does it make who else believes it or disbelieves it? I'm beholden to no one for my character or conduct. You must not deny the story. I beg you not to deny the story."
She reached her hand across the table and laid it caressingly on his. She turned her luminous eyes on him, eloquent with voiceless pleading. What could he do but promise to keep silent? By the same token he would as readily have promised her to wear a wooden gag in his mouth all the days of his life. There were few things which in that moment he would not have promised her at her request. He went out from her presence, as he had gone out on the occasion of his last preceding visit at her office, treading on air. In the distance, as he walked up the street, he caught a glimpse of Miss Chichester speeding onward in her car. He lifted the tips of his gloved fingers to his lips, and blew a kiss in her direction.
"What's the meaning of this unusual gallantry?" asked an acquaintance who was passing.
"It means," replied Barry, "that it's better to kiss some women at a distance of two blocks than at a distance of two inches."
But another man who saw Barry's salute said to himself: "Malleson's fool is going daft for sure."
