“Perhaps!” Alexander Hulings carelessly agreed. Sinnox gazed down on him with narrowed eyes. “I see none about us,” he remarked, “who would have to admit the qualification.”
Alexander's bitterness increased, became aggressive. He met Sinnox' gaze with a stiff, dangerous scorn:
“In your case, at least, it needn't stand.”
“Gentlemen,” the third cried, “no more, I beg of you.” He grasped Alexander Hulings' arm. “Withdraw!” he advised. “Mr. Sinnox' temper is fatal. Beyond a certain point it cannot be leashed. It has caused great grief. Gentlemen, I beg——”
“Do you mean——” Sinnox demanded, and his face was covered by an even, dark flush to the sweep of his hair.
“Cheap!” Alexander's voice was sudden and unpremeditated.
The other's temper rose in a black passion; he became so enraged that his words were mere unintelligible gasps. His hand shook so that he dropped a glass of rock-and-rye splintering on the floor. “At once!” he finally articulated. “Scurvy——”
“This couldn't be helped,” his companion proclaimed, agitated. “I warned the other gentleman. Mr. Sinnox is not himself in a rage, his record is well known. He was elbowed aside by——”
“Alexander Hulings!” that individual pronounced.
He was aware of the gaze of the crowding men about him; already he was conscious of an admiration roused by the mere fact of his facing a notorious bully. Cheap! The director joined him.