"Oh, Mr. Coakley! why did you do this?"
Before Coakley could reply Nolan cut in irritably: "Do what? What's the matter now?"
"I'm asking Mr. Coakley why he didn't carry out the design we agreed on for the supper club."
Coakley grinned and scratched an ear. "Mr. Nolan's ideas, Miss Lee," he drawled uncomfortably.
"Mr. Nolan ordered this change?"
Nolan brusquely interposed: "Of course, I did. What's wrong with the set?"
"And you didn't consult me, Mr. Coakley?"
"I supposed you knew, Miss Lee."
"Say, listen here!" Nolan snapped—"what's the grand idea? I said I was responsible for this set, didn't I? I gave Coakley's lay-out the once-over, saw it wouldn't do, and told him what I wanted. And why wouldn't I? Look't what we got. Not much like that glorified tea-room you were satisfied with, is it?"
"No, Mr. Nolan—not much. I grant you that."