Rufus Shepley looked up, and then sprang to his feet, but his face did not light and he did not extend a hand in greeting. Instead, his countenance grew crimson, and he seemed to be shaking with anger.
"You presume too much on a chance acquaintance, sir!" Rufus Shepley thundered. "I do not wish you to address me again—do you understand, sir? Never again—either in public or private!"
"Why——" Prale stammered.
"I don't want anything to do with a man of your stamp!" Rufus Shepley went on. "Ten years in Honduras, were you? We all know why men go to Honduras and spend years there."
Shepley had raised his voice, and all in the lobby could hear. Men began moving toward them, and women began walking away, fearing a scene and a quarrel.
Sidney Prale's face had flushed, too, and he felt his anger rising again.
"I am sure I do not wish to continue the acquaintance if you do not, sir," he said. "I can be courteous, at least."
"Some men are not entitled to courtesy," Shepley roared.
"What do you mean by that?" Prale demanded.
"I mean that I don't want anything to do with you, that's all! I don't want you to speak to me again! I don't want anybody to know that you even know me by sight!"