On the contrary, in appearance they were typical
business men--energy, prosperity, masterfulness, showing in their
every word and gesture, in every line of their clean-cut,
strong-featured faces. On this particular morning they were not
looking their best, and the reason, as well as the explanation of
their late rising might possibly be found in the disorder which a
cursory glance around the room revealed. Dress coats, white ties,
patent leather pumps and other paraphernalia of evening wear were
scattered here and there, just as each article had been thrown down
when they had returned home the night before, while on a side table
were a couple of champagne bottles--empty.
They were both comparatively young men. The elder of the two, a big,
athletic fellow with smooth face and strong jaw, did not appear to be
much over thirty-five. His companion was about the same age. Both had
the _blase_ air of men who had lived and lived hard. All of
life's fiercer joys they had known to excess, which explained,
perhaps, why they were tired and disillusionized long before they had
attained their prime. With a gesture of disgust, the elder man threw
down his paper, and, snatching up a glass of ice-water, swallowed the
refreshing contents at a gulp.
"It's no use, Fred!" he exclaimed. "I'm no good for that late bumming.
I guess I'm getting old. Those midnight orgies never did agree with
me. Hot birds and cold wine are a barbaric mixture, anyhow.
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