Martinson hated disputes as a cat hates to walk in fresh-fallen snow, and the parting tirade of Bently Brown had affected him unpleasantly.
For a full two minutes Luck smoked and did not speak, and as he had done once before, Martinson repented his harshness when it was too late.
"Personally, your version struck me as awfully funny," he began placatingly.
"Who gives a cuss how it struck you personally ?" Luck stood up with unexpected haste.

"You trim and truckle to every one that comes along with a gold brick, and that's why you have to sit up nights to nurse the profits.

If you had a little stiffening in your back, the profits would show up better.

You paid good money for this bunch of rot, and turned it over to me to whip into a profitable investment.

You can make the rounds of the studio and get a vote on whether I've done it or not.