Brockton turned. His lips were compressed, his eyes flashed. Starting angrily forward he exclaimed:
"Wait a minute, young man, or I'll——"
Madison gave one stride towards him, and for a moment both men stood confronting each other, their fists clenched. Their primal instincts were aroused. Like wild beasts, full of savage hatred, they were hungry and ready to fly at each other's throats.
"You'll what?" demanded Madison, raising his fist.
"Lose my temper and make a damned fool of myself," retorted the broker retaining his sang froid only by the greatest effort. With an attempt at jocularity he went on: "That's something I've not done for—let me see—why, it must be nearly twenty years—oh, yes—fully that——"
He smiled and Madison, disarmed, fell back. In a sulky undertone, the Westerner grumbled:
"Possibly it's been about that length of time since you were human, eh?"
"Possibly—but you see, Mr. Madison, after all, you're at fault——"
"Yes?"
"Yes, the very first thing you did was to lose your temper. Now people who always lose their temper will never make a lot of money, and you admit that that is a great necessity—I mean now—to you——"