“I beg your pardon, Mr. Walters, but may I remind you that this is a gentleman’s club?”
“Well, no; you may not!” Walters retorted hotly. He advanced toward Bruce, his eyes blazing wrathfully.
The men, half clothed, eyed each other for a moment.
“We don’t speak of women in this club as you’ve been doing,” said Bruce. “I’m merely asking you to be a little more careful.”
“Oh, you’re criticizing my manners, are you?” flared Walters.
“Yes; that’s what I’m doing. They’re offensive. My opinion of you is that you’re a contemptible blackguard!”
“Then that for your opinion!”
Walters sprang forward and dealt Bruce a ringing slap in the face. Instantly both had their fists up. Walters’s companion grasped him by the arm, begging him to be quiet, but he flung him off and moved toward Bruce aggressively.
They sparred for a moment warily; then Walters landed a blow on Bruce’s shoulder.
“So you’re Mrs. Mills’s champion, are you?” he sneered.