"Then don't say it," retorted Roger, in a huff.
"Very well," replied Fanks, resignedly; "but if you take away my guiding stars I'll never find my way across the ocean of mystery."
Roger made no reply, but walked on rapidly with a frown on his good-looking face. Suddenly he stopped so dead short that Fanks, also using his legs in no slow fashion, shot past him a yard or so before he could pull up.
Quoth Roger savagely:
"Say your say and have done with it."
Mr. Fanks surveyed his friend with a quiet smile, and then took him gently by the arm.
"Come and have luncheon with me," he said, persuasively.
"No."
"They've got an excellent cook at the 'Foundryman.'"
"I won't come."