It is hard to admit it,
but it is true--I wept uncontrollably. In an instant the room was quiet
except for the sound of my own awful grief. I heard it, was ashamed of it,
but I could not stop. The telephone rang again and again, wildly, shrilly,
but there was no answer. The stillness became so oppressive that even my
own sobs quieted. I gasped as the lump in my throat choked me, then I
slowly raised my eyes.
Bob's towering figure was in front of me. His head had fallen forward, and
his arms were folded across his breast. But that he stood erect I should
have thought him dead, so still was he. I jumped to my feet and looked
into his face, down which great tears were dropping silently. I touched
him on the shoulder.
"Bob, my dear old chum, Bob, forgive me. For God's sake, forgive me for
intruding on your misery."
I looked at him. I will never forget his face. No heartbroken woman's
could have been sadder. He slowly raised his head, then staggered and
grasped the ticker-stand for support.
"Don't, Jim, don't--don't ask me to forgive you. Oh, Jim, Jim, my old
friend, forgive me for my madness; forget what I said to you, forget the
brute you just saw and think of me as of old, when I would have plucked
out my tongue if I had caught it saying a harsh word to the best and
truest friend man ever had.
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