"Insinuate!" Stewart laughed mirthlessly. "It is needless subtlety to insinuate when a fact is so palpable. With architects of the standing and ability of those from New York and Philadelphia and Boston to choose from, how else is the selection of Bennett & Durant—and on such plans!—to be explained?"
"I am under no necessity of explaining it," Floyd said, and though he spoke quietly, an unpleasant sternness had settled on his face. "Better drop the subject, Stewart—or, as has happened before, we may both of us say things that we shall regret."
"When you refer to such past experiences of regret," Stewart replied, "your conscience has the advantage of mine." The two men had stood, since the beginning of their colloquy, several feet apart, uncompromising, motionless, neither of them making any step which might be interpreted as a plea for a more confidential relation. Now, however, Stewart walked slowly up to Floyd and stretching out his arm, pointed his long forefinger threateningly in Floyd's face. "Shall I reconstruct your mental processes for you so that you can view them in all their nakedness with an impartial eye?" he asked; and Floyd folded his arms and gazed impassively beyond the menacing forefinger at Stewart's collar, as if nothing else interested him. "To begin with; you refused to look at my plans; why? Because you wished to appear to the world too lofty and incorruptible to be reached by personal influence and friendship, and because you were of too small a mind to risk this reputation by giving recognition to the best work when it was done by a friend. And also it was perhaps pleasanter for you to keep me from ever working out the penalty for the mistakes I made in the one building which you once permitted me. Perhaps you recall these motives?"
He paused for a reply, but no expression crossed Floyd's impassive face. Stewart dropped his accusing finger and drew a step nearer.
