On his way out, he dropped in for a moment to see Bob Standish. Bob was at his old tricks again; and while his competitors in realty, and insurance, and mortgage loans, made the same mistake that once his classmates and instructors and the opposing ends and tackles had made, and argued that his fair skin and his innocent blue eyes, his indolent manner and his perfection of dress all evidenced his lack of wit and stamina, he had calmly proceeded to chase several of those competitors out of business, and to purchase their good-will on his own terms. It was popularly said, in his own circle, that Standish would clear a hundred thousand dollars his first year. He winked lazily at Henry, and indicated a chair. "Set!" said Standish. "Glad you came in. Two things to ask you. Want to sell? Want to rent?" "If you were in my shoes, would you sell, Bob?" "I can get you twenty-eight thousand." "That's low." "Sure, but everybody knows you've got a clientele that nobody else could get. Are you talking?" "I--guess not just yet." "Want to rent? I just had a nibble for small space; you could get fifty a month for that attic you're using for a nursery." "I--hardly think so, Bob. That's a pet scheme of Anna's, and besides, we need it. It's good advertising." His friend's eyes were round and childlike. "Made any plans for the future, Henry? Know what you'll do if you stub your toe?" "Sell out and strike you for a job, I guess." "Don't believe it would work, old man." "Don't you think so?" "One pal boss another? Too much family." Henry looked serious. "I'm sorry you think so. _I_ wouldn't have kicked." "No, I'm afraid I couldn't give you a job, old dear. I like you too well to bawl you out. But maybe we'll do business together some other way." As he drove his tin runabout homeward, Henry was unusually downcast. He didn't blame Standish--Standish had showed himself over and over to be Henry's best friend on earth. But it was dispiriting to realize how Standish must privately appraise him. Henry recalled the justification, and grew red to think of the ten years of their acquaintance--ten years of continuous achievement for Standish, and only a few months of compulsory display for himself. But he wished that Standish hadn't thrown in that last remark about doing business together some other way. That wasn't like Bob, and it hurt. It was too infernally commercial.