"You had better keep your animal under the table." McQuade did not move or answer.

So Warrington grasped Jove by the collar and led him out of the private office.

McQuade heard the dramatist whistle on the way to the elevator.
"So he'll fight, eh ?" growled McQuade.

"Well, I'll break him, or my name's not McQuade.

The damned meddling upstart, with his plays and fine women! You're a hell of a dog, you are! Why the devil didn't you kill his pup for him ?" McQuade sent a kick at the dog, who dodged it successfully, trotted out to the typewriter and crawled under the girl's skirts.
Warrington went home, thoroughly angry with himself.