"It's great—great!" Sidney Prale said, half aloud.
He bent over the rail again. A hand descended upon his shoulder, and a voice answered him.
"You bet it's great, Prale!"
Sidney Prale's smile weakened a bit as he turned around, but there was nothing of discourtesy in his manner.
"You like it, Mr. Shepley?" he asked.
"Do I like it? Does Rufus Shepley, forced to run here and there around the old world in the name of business, like it when he gets the chance to return to New York? Ask me!"
"I have my answer," Prale said, laughing a bit. "And judge, then, how I like it—when I have not seen it for ten years."
"Haven't seen New York for ten years?" Rufus Shepley gasped.
"A whole decade," Prale admitted.
"Been down in Honduras all that time?"