"First-rate. Thought you'd have known; you're about pretty often."
"Yes, but I generally omit to enquire at the box office," said Ashley with an air of apology.
Mr. Hazlewood pushed back his chair and threw down his napkin. Then he lit a cigar with great care and took several whiffs. At last he spoke.
"Mind you, Mead," said he with a cautious air, "I don't say it's wrong of a man at your time of life to be a fool, and I don't say I haven't been just as great a fool myself, and I don't say that you haven't a better excuse for it than I ever had, and I don't say that half the men in town wouldn't be just as great fools as you if they had the chance."
"I'm glad you're not going to say any of those absurd things," remarked Ashley with gravity.
"But all I say is that you are a fool."
"Is that quite all?" asked Ashley.
Hazlewood's smile broadened a little.
"Not quite," said he. "I left out one word. An epithet."