Matthias, ignoring the hand, lifted one of his own in a gesture deprecatory.
"Softly!" he begged. "Somebody might hear you."
Unabashed, Marbridge dropped into the chair beside him. "How's that? Why shouldn't they?"
"They might make the mistake of inferring that I liked you," returned Matthias.
Marbridge, on the point of settling back, sat up with a start. A dull colour flushed his plump, dark cheeks. For an instant his hands twitched nervously and his full lips tightened on a retort which he presumably deemed inadvisable; for mastering his impulse, he sank back again, and put a period to the display with a brief but not uneasy chuckle.
"You're all there with the acidulated repartee," he observed appreciatively. "Some class to your work, my boy!" To which, Matthias making no comment, he added with at least some effort toward an appearance of sincerity: "Sorry you feel that way about me."
"Unfortunately, I do."
"Because I wouldn't act on your suggestion about that time-table, eh?"
"Because of the circumstances which moved me to drop that hint."
A brief silence prefaced Marbridge's next remark: