Mr.Fopling feared Ajax, holding him to be rabid and not knowing when he would do those rending deeds of tooth and claw upon him, of which the ejaculation, the arched back, and the bottle-brush were signs and portents.
It was the afternoon of the day following one of those Harley dinners whereat Storri had been the sole and honored guest, and Bess was sipping her tea.

Her two favorites, Ajax and Mr.Fopling, were sitting in their respective chairs, regarding each other with their usual suspicion and distrust.

Mr.Fopling, by command of Bess and so far as he might control himself, was paying no attention to Ajax.

Ajax, for his part, was surveying Mr.Fopling with a sour stare, as though he found much in that young gentleman's appearance to criticise.

At intervals, he made growling comments upon Mr.Fopling.
"Unless you and Ajax can agree," observed Bess soberly, "one or the other might better go into the library." Mr.Fopling made no demur; he was glad to go.