“Good idea,” said the little man, who was still walking up and down. It appeared as if he had not spoken for several hours; his hat was further over his eyes. Bartley had thought he was gone.
“What business is it of yours?” he demanded, fiercely, moving towards the little man.
“Come, none of that,” said the bar-keeper, steadily.
Bartley looked at him in amazement. “Where's your hat?” he asked.
The others laughed; the bar-keeper smiled.
“Are you a married man?”
“Never mind!” said the bar-keeper, severely.
Bartley turned to the little man: “You married?”
“Not much,” replied the other. He was now topping off with a whiskey-straight.
Bartley referred himself to the manager: “You?”