was an acidulated crispness in his voice which hinted that time might be a matter of importance to him.
"You know what it 's about, all right," was Blake's heavy retort.
"On the contrary," said Copeland, putting down his hat and coat, "I 'm quite in the dark as to how I can be of service to you."
Both his tone and his words angered Blake, angered him unreasonably. But he kept warning himself to wait, to hold himself in until the proper moment arrived.
"I expect no service from you," was Blake's curtly guttural response. He croaked out his mirthless ghost of a laugh. "You 've taught me better than that!"
Copeland, for all his iciness, seemed to resent the thrust.
"We have always something to learn," he retorted, meeting Blake's stolid stare of enmity.
"I guess I've learned enough!" said Blake.
"Then I hope it has brought you what you
