"You don't mean a word of what you've just said," she went on.
"You are all upset, as I am. You are his friend and mine."
Defiantly: "And I love him, and you know I do."

It was the tone of one giving another something that must be
repeated by rote. "That's it," said he, somewhat sullenly, but
with no hint of protest. "I'm all unstrung, like you, and like
him."

"And you will forget that you saw me crying."

"I'll never think of it again." "Now go and bring him, please."

He went quickly toward the door.

"Grant!" she cried. As he turned she rose, advanced with a
friendly smile and put out her hand for his. "Thank you," she
said. "You have shown yourself OUR best friend."

"I meant to be," he answered earnestly, as he pressed her hand.
"When I pull myself together I think you'll realize I'm some
decenter than I've seemed of late."

Madam Bowker came just as he returned with Craig. So all attention
was concentrated upon the meeting of the two impossibilities. The
old lady took her new relative's hand with a gracious, queenly
smile--a smile that had the effect both of making him grateful and
of keeping him "in his place." Said she, "I have been writing out
the announcement."