ing game and stack the cards on her. After all,
she's human."

Suddenly he commenced to weep with fury, the tears cascading into his
whiskers making him look singularly ridiculous in comparison with the
expression on his face, which was anything but grievous. "Marriage!
Marriage!" he croaked. "I know what it is. I married a fat-head--and
so did my wife. We've never known romance; never had anything but a
quiet, well-ordered existence. I've dwelt in repression; never got out
of life a single one of those thrills that comes of doing something
daring and original and nasty. Never had an adventure; never had a
woman look at me like I was a god; married at twenty and never knew
the Grand Passion." He threw up his arms. "Oh-h-h, God-d-d! If I could
only be young again I'd be a devil! Praise be, I know one man with
guts enough to tell 'em all to go to hell."

With a peculiar little moving cry he started for the door.

"Andrew," The Laird cried anxiously. "Where are you going?"

"None of your infernal business," the rebel shrilled, "but if you must
know, I'm going down to the Sawdust Pile to kiss the bride and shake
a man's hand and wish him well. After I've done that I'll deliver your
message. Mark me, he'll never take those bonds."

"Of course he will, you old fool. They belong to him."

"But he refused to make a profit at the expense of his own father. He
gave them to you and he's not an Indian giver."

"Andrew, I have never known you to act in such a peculiar manner. Are
you crazy? Of course he'll take them. He'll have to take them in order
to get out of Port Agnew. I doubt if he has a dollar in the world."

Mr. Daney beat his chest gorilla fashion. "He doesn't need a dollar.
Boy and man, I've loved that--ahem! son of yours. Why, he always _did_
have guts. Keep your filthy money. The boy's credit is good with me.
I'm no pauper, even I if do work for you. I work for fun. Understand.
Or do you, Hector McKaye?"

"If you dare to loan my son as much as a thin dime I'll fire you out
of hand."

Mr. Daney jeered. "How?" he demanded very distinctly, and yet with a
queer, unusual blending of the sentence with a single word, as if the
very force of his breath had telescoped every syllable, "would you
like to stand off in that corner there and take a long runnin' jump at
yourself, proud father?"

"Out of this office! You're fired."

Mr. Daney dashed the tears from his whiskers and blew his nose. Then
he pulled himself to