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 "No," was the response. "It is none of your business. And, see here! this is a corner, if you are going straight down the street, I'm going to take it. If not, you'd better take it yourself."

Danforth flushed. He looked at the angry face above him, and affected to be amused.

"Good-night, old boy," he said, "but take care of yourself. There's your corner, take it if you wish to."

He turned and walked slowly away, but stopping at a lamp-post he struck a match, and lit a cigarette. Hart saw that he was laughing. He could have torn him to pieces.

"Has Mr. Hollingsworth come in this evening?" Raymond Danforth asked of the liveried man at his club door, ten minutes after this strange parting.

"Yes, sir, he's in the smoking-room."

Danforth gave up his hat and cloak, and finding Hollingsworth sitting with some young men in a corner, he drew up a chair.

"Oh, I've got a funny story to tell you fellows," he began at once, and with great gusto he related the events of the evening.