“I suppose you know what I’ve come for,” he said easily.
“We can guess,” spoke Tom. “Take a seat,” and he motioned to the old sofa.
“No, thanks—not on that. It looks as if it would collapse. I don’t see why you fellows have such beastly furniture. It’s frowsy.”
“We value it for the associations,” said Phil simply. “If you don’t like it——”
“Oh, it’s all right, if you care for it. Every one to his notion, as the poet says. But I came on my friend Gerhart’s account. He says he was mistaken about you, Clinton.”
“Does that mean he apologizes?” asked Phil stiffly.
“Of course, you old fire-eater,” said Langridge, lighting a cigarette. “Is it satisfactory?”
“Yes; but tell him to be more careful in the future.”
“Oh, I guess he will be. He’s heard of your reputation,” and Langridge blew a ring of smoke toward the ceiling.