Wingate, let me tell you that Flossie is a very dangerous young
lady--destroys the peace of everybody--can't sleep myself for thinking of
her. Not your sort at all, Wingate. We know your sort, don't we, eh?"
Wingate remained contemptuously silent. Kendrick rose from his place and
laid his hand on Dredlinton's shoulder.
"Come and sit down, Dredlinton," he said shortly. "You're making an idiot
of yourself."
"Go to hell!" the other replied truculently. "Who are you? Just that
man's broker, that's all. Want to sell wheat, Wingate, or buy it, eh?"
Wingate looked at him steadily.
"You're drunk," he said. "I should advise you to get a friend to take
you home."
"Drunk, am I?" Dredlinton shouted. "What if I am? I'm a better man drunk
than you are sober--although she may not think so, eh?"
Wingate looked at him from underneath level brows.
"I should advise you not to mention any names here," he said.
"I like that!" the other scoffed. "Not to mention any names, eh? He'll
forbid me next to talk about my own wife."
"You'd be a cur if you did," Wingate told him.
A little spot of colour burned in Dredlinton's cheeks. For a moment he
showed his teeth. But for Kendrick's restraining arm, he seemed as though
he would have thrown himself across the table. Then, with a great effort,
he regained command of himself.
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