I don’t think he was home two days when he telephoned in asking me if he could come to see me and thank me for what I’d done. Wasn’t that like him? Most men would have been so glad to get out of jail they’d have forgotten the hello girl who’d helped to free them, but not Jack Reddy. He came in the late afternoon, at the time I got off. I’ll never forget it. Katie Reilly was at the switchboard and I was standing at the window, watching, when I saw the two lights of the gray racer coming down the street. I ran and opened the door—I wasn’t bashful a bit—and when I saw him I gave a little cry, for he looked so changed, pale and haggard and older, a good many years older. But his smile was the same, and so was the kind, honest look of his face. Before he said a word he just held out his hand and mine went into it and I felt the clasp of his fingers warm and strong. And—strange it is, but true—I wasn’t any more like the girl who used to tremble at the mere sight of him, but was calm and quiet, looking deep and steady into his eyes as if we’d got to be friends, the way a man might be friends with a boy. "Miss Morganthau," he said, "I’ve heard what you’ve done, and I want to thank you." "You needn’t have taken all the trouble to come in from Firehill, Mr. Reddy," I answered. "You could have said it over the wire." "Could I have done this over the wire?" he said, giving my hand a shake and a squeeze. "You know I couldn’t. And that’s what I wanted to do—take a grip of the hand that helped me out of prison." I said some fool words about its being nothing and he went on smiling down at me, yet with something grave in his face. "I want to do more—ask a favor of you. I hope it won’t be hard to grant for I’ve set my heart on it. Can I be your friend?" "Oh, Mr. Reddy," I stammered out, "you make me proud," and suddenly tears came into my eyes. I don’t know why unless it was seeing him so changed and hearing him speak so humble to a common guy like me. "Oh, come now," he said, "don’t do anything like that. You’ll make me think you don’t like the idea." I sniffed, wanting to kick Katie Reilly, who was gaping round in her chair, and I guess getting mad that way dried up my tears. "It’s your friend I’ll be till the end of my life, Mr. Reddy," I answered. "And the only thing I’m sorry for is that I didn’t get the right man the way I thought I’d done." "Never mind about that," said he, his face hardening up, "we’ll get him yet. Don’t let’s think of that now. It’s the end of your day, isn’t it? If you’re going home will you let me take you there in my car?" There was a time when if I’d thought I’d ever ride beside Jack Reddy in that racer I’d have had chills and fever for a week in advance. But now I sat calm and still beside him as he rode me through Longwood to Mrs. Galway’s door.