"I'll get you yet—you brutal kidnappers."
"I think it's a rather low trick of Bob Story's," said Stover, considering surreptitiously in the mirror the effect of his new color scheme.
"Ditto here," said Hungerford.
Now Stover was in a quandary. He was divided between two emotions. He firmly thought that he had never looked so transcendingly the perfect man of fashion, but he had numerous busy doubts as to whether the exquisite costume was as appropriate at a quiet Sunday dinner as it undoubtedly would have been in a sporting audience. Still, to make a change now, under the malicious inspection of Tough McCarthy, would be to invite a storm of joyful ridicule, so he said hopefully.
"Think it all right to go in this?"
"Why not?"
As this put the burden of the proof on him, Stover remained silent, but compromised a little by exchanging a rather forward vest for one of calmer aspect.
"Well," he said, at last, with something between a gulp and a sigh, "I suppose we'd better push along."
"I suppose so," said Hungerford, who brought a strangle hold to bear on his necktie and shot a last look down at the slightly wavering line of his trousers.
At the door, the vision of McNab, like a visiting English duke, bore down upon them.