Richard, the somber, who did not like noise, shrugged his shoulders.
Storri, by the fireplace, caught the shrug and found it offensive. He
made towards Richard, and offered the right hand, his white teeth
gleaming in a sinister way through the fastnesses of his beard.

"Will you try grips with me?" cried Storri loudly. "Will you shake hands
Russian fashion?"

"No," retorted Richard, all ice and unconcern. "I will not shake your
hand Russian fashion."

Storri broke into an evil grin that made him look like a black panther.

"Some day you must put your fingers into that trap," said he, opening
and closing his broad hand.

Richard making no return, Storri and the others went back to their
decanters.

Richard might have said, and would have believed, that he did not like
Storri because of a Siberian rudeness and want of breeding. It is to be
thought, however, that his antipathy arose rather from having heard the
day before Storri's name coupled with that of Dorothy Harley. The Russ
was a caller at the Harley house, it seemed, and rumor gave it that he
and Mr. Harley were together in speculations. At that Richard hated
Storri with the dull integrity of a healthy, normal animal, just as he
would have hated any man who raised his eyes to Dorothy Harley; for you
are to know that Richard was in a last analysis even more savage than
was Storri himself, and withal as jealously hot as a coal of fire.