To disturb a reverie of this kind was as bad as riding rough-shod over some good father digesting his first meal after Lent, but the boy's purpose was too lofty to be blunted by any such considerations.

Into the arena went his glove and out rang his challenge.
"What I have got to say to you, Uncle Arthur, breaks my heart, but you have got to listen to me! I have waited until they were all gone to tell you." Breen laid his glass on the table and straightened himself in his chair.
His brain was reeling from the wine he had taken and his hand unsteady, but he still had control of his arms and legs.
"Well, out with it! What's it all about, Jack ?" "I heard this afternoon that my friend Gilbert was ruined in our office.
The presence of these men to-night makes me believe it to be true.

If it is true, I want to tell you that I'll never enter the office again as long as I live!" Breen's eyes flashed: "You'll never enter!...

What the devil is the matter with you, Jack!--are you drunk or crazy ?" "Neither! And I want to tell you, sir, too, that I won't be pointed out as having anything to do with such a swindling concern as the Mukton Lode Company.

You've stopped the work on Gilbert's house--Mr., Morris told me so--you've--" The older man sprang from his seat and lunged toward the boy.
"Stop it!" he cried.