“Very well,” returned the other coolly; “I appreciate it. Many a fool wouldn’t go even so far.” Mr. Clyde smiled. “I own to the soft impeachment. From what Dr. Magruder said I judge you saved that fellow from the hospital.”
“I judge I did—no thanks to you! You’ve a grip like a vise.”
“Yes; I keep in good training,” said the other pleasantly. “A man of my age has to, if he is to hold up his work.” He looked concernedly at the stranger who had involuntarily lapsed against the tree again. “See here,” he added, “I don’t believe you’re well.”
“No; I don’t believe I am,” answered the tall man in uncompromising tones; “but I do believe that it is peculiarly my own affair whether I am or not.”
“Nonsense! Man, your nerves are on the jump. You used yourself up on that chap in the street car. Come across to my club and take something to brace you up.”
People usually found it hard to resist Mr. Clyde’s quiet persuasiveness. The stranger, after a moment of consideration, smiled.
“Begin with a fight and end with a drink?” he asked. “That’s a reversal of the usual process. If your cuisine runs to a cup of hot milk as late as this, I’d be glad to have it.”
As they entered the club, Mr. Clyde turned to his guest.
“What name shall I register?”
The stranger hesitated. “Strong,” he said finally.