His companion, stretching his legs a bit farther under the table, made
no answer.

"I said something then," the lavender young gentleman said, peevishly.
"What's the matter with you, Greek?"

Greek took his arms down from the back of his chair where he had
clasped his hands behind his head, and finished his own high-ball.
Nature in the beginning of things for him had been more kind than to
his petulant friend. He was scarcely more than a boy--twenty-five,
perhaps, from the looks of him--but physically a big man. He might
have weighed a hundred and eighty pounds, and he was maybe an inch
over six feet. But evidently where nature had left off there had been
nobody to go on save the tailor. His gray suit was faultlessly
correct, his linen immaculate, his hose silken and of a brilliant,
dazzling blue. His face was fine, even handsome, but indicating about
as much purpose as did his faultlessly correct shoes. There was an
extreme, unruffled good humor in his eyes and about his mouth, and
with it all as much determination of character as is commonly put into
the rosy face of a wax doll.

"Seeing that you have made the same remark seventeen times since
breakfast," Greek replied, when he had set his empty glass back upon
the tray, "I didn't know that an answer was needed."

"Well, it's so," the pale youth maintained, irritably.

Greek nodded wearily and selected a cigarette from a silver
monogrammed case. The cigarettes themselves were monogrammed, each one