“I--want to speak to you,” stammered Slump, breathless from his run. “I suppose it tickled you nearly to death to see me kicked out of the restaurant back yonder, hey?”
“Why should it?” inquired Ralph.
“That’s all right, Fairbanks; natural, too, I suppose, for you never liked me.”
“Did you ever give me a chance to try.”
“Eh? Well, let that pass. Don’t be huffy now. See here.”
As Slump spoke, he extended his hands. They were coarse and grimy. With a smirk he inquired:
“See them?”
“See what?” demanded Ralph.
“Clean hands.”
“Are they--I didn’t understand.”