"You bet it won't!" Lightbody sprang up, as out of the ashen cloak of age the young Faust springs forth. "To-morrow—do you hear, to-morrow we're off for Morocco!"
"By way of Paris?" questioned De Gollyer, who likewise gained a dozen years of youthfulness.
"Certainly by way of Paris."
"With a dash of Vienna?"
"Run it off the map!"
"Good old Jack! You're coming back, my boy, you're coming strong!"
"Am I? Just watch!" Dancing over to the desk, he seized a dozen heavy books:
"'Evolution and Psychology,' 'Burning Questions!' 'Woman's Position in Tasmania!' Aha!"
One by one, he flung them viciously over his head, reckoning not the crash with which they fell. Then with the same pas de ballet he descended on the hat-box and sent it from his boot crashing over the piano. Before De Gollyer could exclaim, he was at the closet, working havoc with the boxes of cigars.
"Here, I say," said De Gollyer laughing, "look out, those are cigars!"