“There’s something extraordinarily attractive about being friends,” he began. “Isn’t it a great relief for you to meet someone who wishes to be nothing more than a friend?” “Friends,” Daisy repeated. “I don’t know that I think much of friends. You don’t get much out of _them_, do you?” “Is that all anybody is for,” Michael asked in disappointment. “To get something out of?” “Well, naturally. Anyone can’t live on nothing, can they?” “But I don’t see why a friend shouldn’t be as profitable as an ephemeral ... as a lover ... well, what I mean is, as a man you meet at eleven and say good-bye to next morning. A friend could be quite as generous.” “I never knew anyone in this world give anything unless they wanted twice as much back in return,” said Daisy. “Why do you suppose I gave you money the other day and paid your fine in the police court?” he asked, for, though he did not like it, he was so anxious to persuade her of the feasibleness of friendship, that he could not help making the allusion. “I suppose you wanted to,” she said. “As a friend,” he persisted. “Oh, all right,” she agreed with him lazily. “Have it your own way. I’m too sleepy to argue.” “Then we are friends?” Michael asked gravely. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. A couple of old talk-you-deads joring over a clothes-line. Get on with it, Roy—or what’s your name? Michael, eh? That’s right.” “Good! Now, supposing I ask your advice, will you give it to me?” “Advice is very cheap,” said Daisy. “I used to know a girl,” Michael began. “A straight-cut?” “Oh, yes. Certainly. Oh, rather. At least in those days she was.” “I see. And now she’s got a naughty little twinkle in her eye.” “Look here. Do listen seriously,” Michael begged. “She isn’t a straight-cut any longer.” “Well, what did I tell you? That’s what I said. She’s gone gay.” “I want to get her away from this life,” Michael announced, with such solemnity that Daisy was insulted. “Why, what’s the matter with it? You’re as bad as a German ponce I knew who joined the Salvation Army. Don’t you try taking me home to-night to our loving heavenly father. It gives me the sick.” “But this girl was brought up differently. She was what is called a ‘lady.’” “More shame for her then,” said Daisy indignantly. “She ought to have known better.” It was curious this sense of intrusion which Lily’s fall gave to one so deeply plunged. There was in Daisy’s attitude something of the unionist’s toward foreign blackleg labor. “Well, you see,” Michael pointed out. “As even you have no pity for her, wouldn’t it be right for me to try to get her out of the life altogether?” “How are you going to do it? If she was walking about with a sunshade all day, before you sprang it on her....” “I had nothing to do with it,” Michael interrupted. “At least not directly.” “Well, what are you pulling your hair out over?” she demanded in surprise. “I feel a certain responsibility,” he explained. “Go on with what you were saying.”