"You have had some favors out of me, Marsh."

"I am not likely to forget them, you give me no chance," rejoined
Langham bitterly.

"Why should I, eh?" asked Gilmore coolly. He leaned back in his chair
and stared at the ceiling above his head. "Marsh, what was that North
was saying about me when I came down the hall?" and his swarthy cheeks
were tinged with red.

"I don't recall that he was speaking of you."

"You don't? Well, think again. It was about our going up to your house
to-night, wasn't it? Your wife's back, eh? Well, don't worry, I came
here partly to tell you that I had made other arrangements for the
evening."

"It's just as well," said Langham.

"Do you mean your wife wouldn't receive me?" demanded Gilmore. There
was a catch in his voice and a pallor in his face.

"I didn't say that."

Gilmore's chair resounded noisily on the floor as he came to his feet.
He strode to the lawyer's side.

"Then what in hell _do_ you say?" he stormed.