Dean tied his tie precisely, brushed his eyebrows, and removed a piece
of tobacco from his teeth with solemnity. Next he filled his cigarette
case, tossed the empty box thoughtfully into the waste basket, and
settled the case in his vest pocket.

"Had breakfast?" he demanded.

"No; I don't eat it any more."

"Well, we'll go out and have some. We'll decide about that money
later. I'm sick of the subject. I came East to have a good time.

"Let's go over to the Yale Club," he continued moodily, and then added
with an implied reproof: "You've given up your job. You've got nothing
else to do."

"I'd have a lot to do if I had a little money," said Gordon pointedly.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake drop the subject for a while! No point in
glooming on my whole trip. Here, here's some money."

He took a five-dollar bill from his wallet and tossed it over to
Gordon, who folded it carefully and put it in his pocket. There was an
added spot of color in his cheeks, an added glow that was not fever.
For an instant before they turned to go out their eyes met and in that
instant each found something that made him lower his own glance
quickly. For in that instant they quite suddenly and definitely hated
each other.