“It’s all right now.” Mackenzie was making use of it to shake the coffeepot, only to find that Reid had drained it to the grounds.
“If I’d recognized you, Jacob, I’d made a double allowance,” Reid said, lifting the corner of his big, unfeeling mouth in a twitching grin.
“You might cut out that Jacob stuff, wherever you got it,” Mackenzie told him, not much interested in it, apparently.
“Can’t you take a joke, Mackenzie?” Reid made the inquiry in surprised voice, with a well-simulated inflection of injury.
“But I don’t want it rubbed in, Reid.”
Reid grunted, expressive of derision and contempt, smoking on in silence while Mackenzie threw himself together a hasty meal. Frequently Reid coughed, always cupping his hand before his mouth as if to conceal from himself as well as others the portentous harshness of the sound.
“Did Sullivan send you over?” Reid inquired at last.
“He said for me to come when I was able, but he didn’t set any time. I concluded I was all right, and came.”
“Well, you can go back; I don’t need you.”
“That’s for Sullivan to say.”