"Where's d' Kid? Speak up now—where is he?"
"Also, your conversation grows a little monotonous, Mr. Flowers."
M'Ginnis stared, then shot out his big chin viciously.
"What you doin' in Hermy's flat, eh?"
Mr. Ravenslee's brows wrinkled slightly, but his soft voice grew softer, as, pausing in the act of lighting his pipe, he answered: "On the whole I think you are a rather—er—unpleasant young man, so suppose you—er—go—"
"What? Go? Are ye tryin' t' tell me t' go?"
"I'm suggesting that you—er—crank up the machine, Mr. Flowers, and beat it while the going's good!"
M'Ginnis clenched his fist and took a threatening step toward Ravenslee, then checked himself and stood breathing heavily.
"May I further suggest," said Ravenslee in his pleasantest voice, "that you look in again—say next Thursday fortnight, Mr. Flowers?"
"T' hell with you—me name's M'Ginnis."