David’s anger flamed alive like a flash of dry powder, but he was telling himself in many repetitions that his time had not yet come.
“We shall get along faster, and perhaps farther, if you will cut out the personalities,” he said sourly.
“I was only repeating what I have heard. You are young to be at the head of a job of this size, and people have a way of explaining such things to suit themselves.”
“I might go into the repeating business myself, if I cared to,” David was beginning; but Lushing cut him off with a short laugh.
“I know; some of them have told you that I have a personal quarrel with Grillage, and perhaps some others have hinted that I wanted to marry into the company and got kicked out for my impudence. We’ll let that go. What was, is ancient history, and we’re dealing with the here and now. Your company is as crooked as a dog’s hind leg, and if you don’t know it, you ought to. Its days on this job are numbered.”
“Threats are the cheapest things in the world,” said David.
“You will find that this is more than a threat. You are a new man in the field, and I’ve nothing against you—as yet. What I wanted to see you for was to say to you that you’d better go while the sledding is good.”
“You are advising me to discharge myself?”
“That’s it—quit—throw up the job—climb out while you can get out with a whole skin.”
“But why?”