He rose, went to the window, and cast forth the malodorous thing. Hungerford followed suit. McCarthy, proud as the Old Guard, sat smoking on; only one leg was drawn up under the other in a tense, convulsive way.
"They were wonderful last night," he said obstinately.
"They certainly were."
"And they were wonderful this morning."
"Not quite so wonderful."
"I like 'em still."
"And Dopey McNab bought a hundred at two-fifty."
This was too much for McCarthy. He surrendered.
Dopey McNab, at this favorable conjunction, sidled into the room with his box under his arm and the face of a boy soprano on duty.
"I say, fellows, I've got a little proposition to make."