“Armstrong!” Roberts had halted, looking back. “Not for any one’s sake but your own—think a second, man.”
“To hell with you and thought!”
Without a sound this time or another glance the door to Roberts’ room opened and closed and Armstrong was alone.
CHAPTER VI
A WARNING
With a dexterity born of experience Harry Randall looked up from his labor of separating the zone of carbon from the smaller segment of chop that had escaped the ravages of a superheated frying-pan and smiled across the table at his wife.
“On the contrary,” he said, refuting a pessimistic observation previously made by the person addressed, “I think you’re doing fine. I can see a distinct improvement every month. On the whole you’re really becoming an admirable cook.”
“Undoubtedly!” The voice dripped with irony. “That very chop, for instance—”