Richard Forrest, Bachelor — page 67: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

58 A CONFIDENTIAL TALK. For the space of half a minute there was a silence, broken only by the Monogram as it poured into the glasses and the clink of the ice striking against the sides of the pitcher, as each man weakened his drink to suit himself. Two heads nodded simultaneously, with a ‘‘Here’s to you,”’’ and then Arthur, after handing a lighted fusee to his vis- itor, used it himself, and both leaned back, while cloud after cloud of smoke encircled their heads. ‘‘Come, out with it, old chap,’’ began the visitor, abrupt- ly, finally; ‘‘don’t keep mein suspense. Are you going away?’ Yes. ‘*Soon?”’ ‘To-morrow. ’”’ ‘“Whew! Where?’’ ‘*Norway.’’ ‘‘Norway! Holy smoke! Why not to the moon and be done with it? And to-morrow! What has happened to make you rush off in this fashion? Crossed in love?’’ ‘‘Don’t be a fool, Dick; I’m going for salmon.”’ ‘‘Humph! Salmon-fishing—tiger-shooting—unhappy lov- ers’ resorts. I was right first clip,’’ muttered Dick. ‘‘But who is sending you on this wild-goose, or rather, salmon chase? It’s never——’’ “I just beg of you not to be an ass,’’ interrupted El- dridge, contemplatively knocking the ashes off his cigar- ette. ‘“You’re not over polite this evening, my boy,’’ declared Forrest, imperturbably. ‘6T’'m ugly. 9 6¢ ~ * * | “IT have discovered that your mood is not _precisely_an-