"A good riddance," snarled Tomlin.
Quinney exploded, shaking his clenched fist in front of the huge, red face.
"What? I'd have you to know, Tom Tomlin, that my Susan and me have stuck together through thick and thin. I think the world of her, but she's without guile, bless her, and as obstinate as Balaam's ass!"
"S'pose you tell me where I come in?"
"Here and now, by the back-door! This dirty dog threatens to down me with the true story of them chairs. And he'll do it, too. Now, let this soak in together with all that port and champagne you swallered last night. If he downs me, he downs you! Got it?"
Assuredly Tomlin had "got it." He began to shake with impotent rage, growling out:
"Threatens to split? I'd like to tell that young man exactly what I think of him."
"You can," said Quinney derisively; "but it will do you more good than him, I reckon. We'll send for him in a jiffy. Ever notice my typist and stenographer, Miss Dredge?"
"Yes, many a time. Nice-lookin' gal."
"This maggot of a Miggott has been eatin' into her young affections, see?"