None knew better than Tony himself that he was no foreman; none so well that he loathed the job which had been thrust upon him by the father of the man whom he had carried out from the very mouth of hell.

It was something to his credit that he loathed himself for accepting the position.

Yet, with irresponsible procrastination, he put off the day of reckoning.

But, some ten days later, and after a night with some kindred spirits of his own Battalion, a night prolonged into the early hours of the working day, Tony presented himself at the office, gay, reckless, desperate, but quite compos mentis and quite master of his means of locomotion.
He appeared in the outer office, still in his evening garb.
"Mr.Wickes," he said in solemn gravity, "please have your stenographer take this letter." Mr.Wickes, aghast, strove to hush his vibrant tones, indicating in excited pantomime the presence of the chief in the inner office.

He might as effectively have striven to stay the East wind at that time sweeping up the valley.
"Are you ready, my dear ?" said Tony, smiling pleasantly at the girl.
"All right, proceed.