"I sent him out to--meet
you!"
And before Andy could say anything more the peacemaker had left the
apartment.
For several minutes Andy stood still. He looked about the room--a room
suggestive in many ways of the presence and character of Dunk. There was
even on the mantel a fragment of the Japanese vase he had broken that
time.
"I'll go to him," spoke Andy, softly.
He went out on the campus, not heeding many calls from friends to join
them. When they noted his manner they, wisely, did not press the matter.
Perhaps they guessed. Andy walked out Whitney Avenue to East Rock Road
and turned into the park.
"I wonder where I'll find him?" he mused, as he gazed around.
"Queer that Ikey should put up a game like this."
Walking on a little way, Andy saw a solitary figure under a tree. He
knew who it was. The other saw him coming, but did not stir.
Presently they were within speaking distance. Andy paused a moment and
then, holding out his hand, said softly:
"Dunk!"
The figure looked up, and a little smile crept over the moody face.
"Andy!" cried Dunk, stepping forward.
The next moment their hands had met in a clasp such as they never had
felt before. They looked into each other's eyes, and there was much
meaning in the glance.
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