To a less sensitive temperament, even, than Carroll's, the
provocation would have been extreme. Perkins was recalled to a
more serious view of the situation by the choking accents of that
gentleman.
"Take off your glasses!"
"What for?"
"Because I'm going to thrash you within an inch of your life!"
"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" cried the young Caracunan. "This is no
place for such an affair."
Apparently Perkins held the same belief. Stepping aside, he
abruptly sat down on the end of the bench, facing the fountain and
not four feet from it. His head drooped a little forward; his
hands dropped between his knees; one foot--but Cluff, the athlete,
was the only one to note this--edged backward and turned to secure
a firm hold on the pavement. Carroll stepped over in front of him
and stood nonplused. He half drew his hand back, then let it fall.
"I can't hit a man sitting down," he muttered distressfully.
Perkins's set face relaxed.
"Running true to tradition," he observed, pleasantly enough. "I
didn't think you would. See here, Mr. Carroll, I'm sorry that I
laughed at your name.
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