"Oh, I've got it in for him, good and hot," Frank sputtered, over his cigarette.
"Did he down you?" asked the broker. "Really?"
"I fell over somehow, every time he crooked his little finger."
"I'll get him so that he can stand up," said Lloyd patronisingly.
"There's all the difference in the world between a pastime and a profession," said the broker. "We see that in the market—a little flier once in a while—and a plunger."
"But will you continue this profession, Mr. Lloyd?" the prig fixed him with such a scandalised expression in his prominent, lashless eyes, that it amounted to an intentional reproach and affront.
Mr. Dalton seemed to resent it.
"He has something better to do." He laughed prosperously, and stroked his moustache.
"He was signing cheques for half an hour this morning," continued the lawyer. This boast was not in the best taste, but Lloyd had so far won upon him that he was both sensitive and belligerent in his client's behalf.
The showman was pained, and winced visibly.