"I didn't introduce it."
"All right. I'm not asking you to lie again. No doubt everybody knows the
facts by this time. I'm going to turn the lights out."
Stanistreet pulled himself together with a shrug. If any other man had
hinted to him, in the most graceful and allegorical manner, that he lied,
it would have been better for that man if he had not spoken. But he
forgave Tyson many things, and for many reasons, one of these, perhaps,
being a certain shamefaced consciousness touching Tyson's wife.
"By the way," said he, "are you going to keep this up very much longer?
It's getting rather monotonous."
Tyson turned and paused with his hand on the door-knob. He snarled,
showing his teeth like an angry cur, irritated beyond endurance.
"If you mean, am I going to take your word for that--frankly, I am not."
He flung the door open and strode out.
Stanistreet followed him.
"I think, Tyson," said he, "if I want to catch that early train
to-morrow, I'd better take my things over to 'The Cross-Roads' to-night."
"Just as you like."
So Stanistreet betook himself to "The Cross-Roads."