He took to walking around now, making angular gestures. Henry, watching him, coming slowly alive now to the complex life that was flowing around him, found himself confronted by a new, disturbed Humphrey. He had, during the year and more of their friendship, taken him for granted as an older, steadier influence, had leaned on him more than he knew. He had been a rock for the erratic Henry to cling to in the confusing, unstable swirl of life. 'Hen'--Humphrey turned on him--'you don't know, but I'm going to be married.' Henry's jaw sagged. 'It's Mildred, of course. 'It's going to be hard on the little woman, Hen. She's got to get her divorce. She can't take money from her husband, of course; and she's only got a little. She'll need me.' His voice grew a thought unsteady; he waved his pipe, as if to indicate and explain the machinery. 'We've got to strike out--take the plunge--you know, make a little money. It's occurred to me... This machinery's worth more than the library, in a pinch. And I've got two bonds left. Just two. They're money, of course...... Hen, you said you _lent_ that thousand to McGibbon?' Henry nodded. 'He gave me his note.' 'Let's see it.' Henry ran up the stairs, and returned with a pasteboard box file, which, not without a momentary touch of pride in his quite new business sense, he handed to his friend. Humphrey glanced at the carefully printed-out phrase on the back--'Henry Calverly, 3rd. Business Affairs'--but did not smile. He opened it and ran through the indexed leaves. It appeared to be empty. 'Look under “Me,”' said Henry. The note was there. 'For three months,' Humphrey mused aloud. Then he smiled. There was a whimsical touch in Humphrey that his few friends knew and loved. Even in this serious crisis it did not desert him. I believe it was even stronger then. 'Hen,' he said, 'got a quarter?' The smile seemed to restore the rock that Henry had lately clung to. He found himself returning the smile, faintly but with a growing warmth. He replied, 'Just about.' 'Match me!' cried Humphrey. 'What for?' 'To settle a very important point. Somebody's name has got to come first. Best two out of three.' 'But I don't----' 'Match me! No--it's mine!... Now I'll match you--mine again! I win. Well--that's settled!' 'What's settled? I don't-----' Humphrey sat on a tool bench; swung his legs; grinned. 'Life moves on, Hen,' he said. 'It's a dramatic old world.' And Henry, puzzled, looking at him, laughed excitedly. 8