“And I’ve got you,” said Ravenslee pleasantly; “we seem to have got each other, don’t we?”

“See here, you,” said M’Ginnis, his massive shoulders squared, his big chin viciously outthrust, “you’re goin’ t’ leave Mulligan’s, see?”

“Am I?” said Ravenslee, lounging upon a corner of the battered desk.

“You sure are,” nodded M’Ginnis.  “Hell’s Kitchen ain’t big enough for you an’ me, I guess; you’re goin’ because I say so, an’ you’re goin’ t’night!”

“You surprise me!” said Ravenslee sleepily.

“You’re goin’ t’ quit Hell’s Kitchen for good and—­you ain’t comin’ back!”

“You amaze me!” and Ravenslee yawned behind his hand.

“An’ now you’re goin’ t’ listen why an’ wherefore—­if you can keep awake a minute!”

“I’ll try, Mr. Flowers, I’ll try.”

M’Ginnis thrust clenched hands into his pockets and surveyed Ravenslee with scornful eyes—­his lounging figure and stooping shoulders, his long, white hands and general listless air.

“God!” he exclaimed, “that she should trouble t’ look twice at such a nancy-boy!” and he spat, loud and contemptuously.

“Almost think you’re trying to be rude, Mr. Flowers.”

“Aw—­I couldn’t be, to a—­thing like you!  An’ see here—­me name’s M’Ginnis!”

“But then,” sighed Ravenslee, “I prefer to call you Flowers—­a fair name for a foul thing—­”

M’Ginnis made a swift step forward and halted, hard-breathing and menacing.

“How much?” he demanded.

“Fair name for a very foul thing, Mr. Flowers,” repeated Ravenslee, glancing up at him from under slumberous, drooping lids—­“anyway, Flowers you will remain!”

As they stared again, eye to eye, M’Ginnis edged nearer and nearer, head thrust forward, until Ravenslee could see the cords that writhed and swelled in his big throat, and he hitched forward a languid shoulder.  “Don’t come any nearer, Flowers,” said he, “and don’t stick out your jaw like that—­don’t do it; I might be tempted to try to—­er—­hit it!”

“What—­you?” said M’Ginnis, and laughed hoarsely, while Ravenslee yawned again.

“An’ now, Mr. Butt-in, if you’re still awake—­listen here.  I guess it’s about time you stopped foolin’ around Hermy Chesterton—­an’ you’re goin’ t’ quit—­see!” Ravenslee’s eyes flashed suddenly, then drooped as M’Ginnis continued:  “So you’re goin’ t’ sit down right here, an’ you’re goin’ t’ write a nice little note of farewell, an’ you’re goin’ t’ tell her as you love her an’ leave her because I say so—­see?  Ah!” he cried, suddenly hoarse and anger-choked, “d’ ye think I’ll let Hermy look at a thing like you—­do ye?—­do ye?” and he waited.  Ravenslee sat utterly still, and when at last he spoke his voice sounded even more gentle than before.

“My good Flowers, there is just one thing you shall not do, and that is, speak her name in my hearing.  You’re not fit to, and, Mr. Flowers, I’ll not permit it.”