Gorham himself would have been under the same circumstances. Then the
cane came down again on the hard pavement with a resounding blow. "Damn
Gorham!" he muttered; "damn all these smooth-mannered men who never lose
their tempers; damn everybody!"

"Come in, Stephen, come in; I'm glad to see you," Gorham greeted him as
he puffed into the apartment, almost exhausted by the double strain of
losing his self-control and his strenuous efforts to regain it. "I
didn't realize it was so warm outside. This is the most summer-like
October I have ever seen. Sit down and I'll have Riley mix you up
something cooling."

"No," commanded Sanford, "not a drop; I'm cool enough. I've been
hurrying, that's all. Haven't forgotten how fussy you are about keeping
appointments on the minute, you see."

Gorham laughed. "I must have learned the trait from you; but it doesn't
apply to an old friend like Stephen Sanford," he said. "Business is
business, of course; but you wrote me that you wanted my advice. There
are no minute appointments in friendship, Stephen. My time is yours."

"Thank you." Sanford was sparring for breath. "I haven't pestered you
much with my personal affairs, have I?"

"You couldn't 'pester' me with them, Stephen. If I can serve you I'll
be as glad to as you would be to reciprocate."

"Yes, yes." The visitor still employed monosyllables as far as possible
as his vehicle of expression, but he was mastering his emotion.