CHAPTER I


"But you live like such a fool--of course you're bored!" drawled the
Older Man, rummaging listlessly through his pockets for the
ever-elusive match.

"Well, I like your nerve!" protested the Younger Man with unmistakable
asperity.

"Do you--really?" mocked the Older Man, still smiling very faintly.

For a few minutes then both men resumed their cigars, staring
blinkishly out all the while from their dark green piazza corner into
the dazzling white tennis courts that gleamed like so many slippery
pine planks in the afternoon glare and heat. The month was August, the
day typically handsome, typically vivid, typically caloric.

It was the Younger Man who recovered his conversational interest
first. "So you think I'm a fool?" he resumed at last quite abruptly.

"Oh, no--no! Not for a minute!" denied the Older Man. "Why, my dear
sir, I never even implied that you were a fool! All I said was that
you--lived like a fool!"

Starting to be angry, the Younger Man laughed instead. "You're
certainly rather an amusing sort of chap," he acknowledged
reluctantly.