"And then you backs up the alley?" says I.
"There was nothing else for me to do," says Mallory. "He went off without giving me another chance."
"Say," says I, "if I had all your parlor manners, I'd organize an English holdin' comp'ny for 'em, so's not to be jacked up for bein' a monopoly. Why didn't you give him the low tackle and sit on his head until he promised to behave? Was that the only try you made?"
"No, I sent up my card twice after that," says he, "and it came back. So I've flunked. I think I'd better go down in the morning and resign."
Now wouldn't that rust you?
"Then here goes the books," says I, chuckin' 'em into the corner. "If doin' the knowledge stunt leaves you with a backbone like a piece of boiled spaghetti, I'm through."
That makes Mallory sit up as if I'd jabbed him with a pin. "Do I seem that way to you?" says he.
"You don't think you're givin' any weight-liftin' exhibition, do you?" says I.
He lets that trickle through for a minute or so, and then he comes back to life. "Torchy," says he, "you're right. I'm acting like a quitter. But I don't mean to let go just yet. Hanged if I don't try to see that man to-night, now, as quick as I can get down there! He's got to see me, by Jove!"
"There's more sense to that than anything else you've said in a week," says I. "Wish I could be there to hold your hat."