He lit the cigar. Mr. McEachern continued to stare fixedly at him. So might the colonel of a regiment have looked at the latest-joined subaltern, if the latter, during mess, had offered to teach him how to conduct himself on parade.
"I'm going to marry your daughter," said Jimmy.
"You are going to marry me daughter!" echoed Mr. McEachern, as one in a trance.
"I am going to marry your daughter."
The purple deepened on Mr. McEachern's face.
"More," said Jimmy, blowing a smoke ring. "She is going to marry me. We are going to marry each other," he explained.
McEachern's glare became frightful. He struggled for speech.
"I must congratulate you," said Jimmy, "on the way things went off tonight. It was a thorough success. Everybody was saying so. You're the most popular man in the county. What would they say of you at Jefferson Market, if they knew? By the way, do you correspond with any of the old set? Splendid fellows, they were. I wish we had some of them here tonight."
Mr. McEachern's emotions found relief in words. He rose, and waved a huge fist in Jimmy's face. His great body was shaking with rage.
"You!" shouted the policeman. "You!"