Once more the mask of indifference had fallen over him, veiling the keen, incisive interest he had shown during the interview.
"Something doing, yes," he drawled, puffing his cigar to a glow.

"Only I advise you to choose your men.

Some day you'll try that on a real man--one of the rough-necks you know, and--" Flint snapped his fingers contemptuously, gazed at Waldron a moment with unwinking eyes and tugged at his mustache.
"When I need advice on handling men, I'll ask for it," he rapped out.
Then, glancing at the Louis XIV clock: "Past the time for that C.P.S.
board-meeting, Wally.

No more of this, now.

We'll talk it over at the Country Club, tonight; but for the present, let's dismiss it from our minds." "Right!" answered the other, and arose, yawning, as though the whole subject were of but indifferent interest to him.