“Are you in earnest?” said he.
“I sure am,” said Hank.
Abrahams, who was over forty with an expanding waist-line, and Carolus, who was a creature dead when divorced from cities and the atmosphere of Art, laughed.
Hank cocked his eye at them. Then he rose to his feet. “I was joking,” said Hank, “believe I could make you ginks swallow anything. Well, I’m off, see you to-morrow.”
George du Cane followed him out.
In the street he linked arms with him.
“Where are you going?” asked Hank.
“Wherever you are,” said George.
“Well, I’m going to the office,” said Hank.
“I’ll go with you,” said George. “I’ve got an idea.”