Chapter VI

Harvard Club,
New York, July 30th.

Dear Naomi,—

This letter is going to be harder to write than an income tax
report. When a man has never before been on his knees to a woman,
they’re apt to be creaky and resist bending. But I’m on my knees
to you, my dear,—in tribute, in abject apology, in the tenderest
feeling I’ve ever known in my life.

Last March Bill Dixon went home and I sat back with the sensation
of a good Samaritan. I was blithering ass enough to think I was
the one who had sent him away. To-day, four months later, I’ve
learned the truth. It came with the announcement of his marriage
to Nan Crawford. He told me what happened. He told me what you
had done, Naomi.

I’ve never had much belief in women. I’ve always thought them
rather a poor lot. That’s the penalty of having begun early to
know the wrong side of them—assuming there was no other. But
you’ve given an old stager a faith he’s never known. For that I
can’t repay you. But whatever I have, whatever I can give you of
devotion and friendship is yours, dear girl. Knowing what you
were equal to doing for that boy has suddenly made life worth
living for me.

I haven’t seen you in months. Will you make up for lost time?
Shall we go to supper to-morrow night?

Yours—I mean it—
Marshy.

Naomi’s eyes wandered from the letter to another that lay open on the desk beside it. It was in a boy’s rugged hand, incoherent, embarrassed. It told of his approaching marriage and tried to thank her for making him see that the old love was the true one. She had read it so many times that she could have told what it told her—with eyes shut.

She reread Kent’s letter then. After a moment she picked up her pen and wrote:

Thank you, dear Marshy. I can use your friendship. I need it. But
I’ve quit going out to suppers—for good.

Naomi.

THE BACK DROP

_DRAMA_

Comedy met Tragedy at the crossroads of Life.

“Know,” spake Tragedy, “from Wisdom have I learned that thou and I emanate from the same source—born of the folly of man and nourished by his deeds. The tie between us is so strong that we must follow, each upon the other’s heels, as long as the road of life has its turnings.”

“Then come,” laughed Comedy, “a bargain let us conclude. Let each forever carry some suggestion of the other!”

So, with a tear in the eye of Comedy and a smile under Tragedy’s frown, they linked arms and proceeded down the road together.

THE BACK DROP