Checking his smile severely, Ordway turned and slipped his left arm affectionately through his companion's.
"I've heard of similar cases," he remarked, "though I confess, they sounded a little strained."
"Do you think I'd better see a doctor? I will if you say so."
"By no means. Go off on a trip."
"And leave Milly here? I'd jump out of the train—and, I reckon, she'd bang my head off for doing it."
"But if it's as bad as that, you couldn't be much more miserable without her."
"I know it," replied Banks obstinately, "but it would be a different sort of miserableness, and that happens to be the sort that I can't stand."
"Then I give it up," said Ordway, cheerfully, "there's no hope but marriage."
With his words they turned under the archway of Baxter's warehouse, and Banks's passionate confidences were extinguished in the odour of tobacco.
A group of men stood talking loudly in the centre of the building, and as Ordway approached, Baxter broke away, with his great rolling laugh, and came to join him at the door of his private office.