his gloves under the depressed fancy chandelier. The old professor
glanced up at the sound of footsteps and favored Queed with a bland
smile.

"I can't resist taking our doughty swashbuckler down a peg or two every
now and then," said he. "Did you ever know such an interminable ass?"

"Really, I never thought about it," said the young man, raising his
eye-brows in surprise and annoyance at being addressed.

"Then take my word for it. You'll not find his match in America. You
show your wisdom, at any rate, in giving as little of your valuable time
as possible to our charming supper-table."

"That hardly argues any Solomonic wisdom, I fancy."

"You're in the hands of the Philistines here, Mr. Queed," said
Nicolovius, snapping his final button. "May I say that I have read some
of your editorials in the _Post_ with--ah--pleasure and profit? I should
feel flattered if you would come to see me in my room some evening,
where I can offer you, at any rate, a fire and a so-so cigar."

"Thank you. However, I do not smoke," said Doctor Queed, and, bowing
coldly to the old professor, started rapidly up the stairs.

Aloft the young man went to his scriptorium, happy in the thought that
five hours of incorruptible leisure and unswerving devotion to his
heart's dearest lay before him. It had been a day when the _Post_ did
not require him; hour by hour since breakfast he had fared gloriously
upon his book. But to-night his little room was cold; unendurably cold;