nd dropped in at
another hotel. There he saw Rufus Shepley sitting in an easy-chair,
smoking and looking at an evening paper.

Well, he knew Shepley, at least. Shepley was only a steamship
acquaintance, but he was a human being and could talk. Prale was just a
bit tired of confining his conversation to waiters and cigar-store
clerks.

He stopped before Shepley and cleared his throat.

"Well, we meet again, Mr. Shepley!" he said.

Rufus Shepley looked up, and then sprang to his feet, but his face did
not light and he did not extend a hand in greeting. Instead, his
countenance grew crimson, and he seemed to be shaking with anger.

"You presume too much on a chance acquaintance, sir!" Rufus Shepley
thundered. "I do not wish you to address me again--do you understand,
sir? Never again--either in public or private!"

"Why----" Prale stammered.

"I don't want anything to do with a man of your stamp!" Rufus Shepley
went on. "Ten years in Honduras, were you? We all know why men go to
Honduras and spend years there."

Shepley had raised his voice, and all in the lobby could hear. Men began
moving toward them, and women began walking away, fearing a scene and a
quarrel.

Sidney Prale's face had flushed, too, and he felt his anger rising
again.

"I am sure I do not wish to continue the acquaintance if you do not,
sir," he said. "I can be courteous, at least."

"Some men are not entitled to courtesy," Shepley roared.

"What do you mean by that?" Prale demanded.

"I mean that I don't want anything to do with you, that's all! I don't
want you to speak to me again! I don't want anybody to know that you
even know me by sight!"

"See here!" Prale cried. "You can't talk to me like that without giving
me some explanation! You can't defame me before other men----"

"Defame you?" Shepley cried. "You can't make a tar brush black, sir?"

Rage was seething in Prale now. There was quite a crowd around them, and
others were making their way forward.

"I don't pretend to know what is the matter with you, and I don't much
care!" he told Shepley. "If your hair wasn't gray, I'd take you out on
the sidewalk and smash your face in! Please understand that!"

"Threaten me, will you?"

"I'm not threatening you. I don't fight a man with one foot in the
grave."

"Why you----"

"And I don't care to have you address me in public again, either,"
Sidney Prale went on. "It probably would be an insult."

"Confound you, sir!" Shepley