As I watched it drive away, I thought: "What a fine thing to know that man as I know him! Have I always been as considerate of him, on this trip, as I should have been? Was it right for me to insist on his staying up that night, in San Francisco, when he wanted to go to bed? Was it right for me to insist on his going to bed that night, in Excelsior Springs, when he wanted to stay up? Shouldn't I have taken more interest in his packing? And if I had done so, would he have left his razor in one hotel, and his pumps in another, and his bathrobe in another, and his kodak in another, and his umbrella in another, and his silver shoehorn in another, and his trousers in another, and his pajamas in every hotel we stopped in?" Then my taxi drove up and I got in, and as we scurried out into the congested street, I kept on ruminating over my treatment of my traveling companion. "I never treated him badly," I thought. "Still, if I had it all to do over again I should treat him better. I should tuck him in at night. I should send his shoes to be polished and his clothes to be pressed. I should perform all kinds of little services for him--not because he deserves such treatment, but because that would get him under obligations to me. And it is a most desirable thing to get a man under obligations to you when he knows as much about you as that man knows about me!"