I'm living at the club, you know.

They haven't yet got over my fiasco at home and I can't stand their joshing." Neither of the men noticed that a third man followed them, stumbling up the stairs as they took the elevator.

Duane was seated in an easy chair by the fire, Grandcourt in another, the decanter stood on a low table between them, when, without formality, the door opened and young Quest appeared on the threshold, white, self-assertive, and aggressively at his ease: "If you fellows don't mind, I'll butt in a moment," he said.

"How are you, Mallett?
How are you ?" giving Grandcourt an impertinent look; and added: "Do you, by any chance, expect your friend Dysart in here this afternoon ?" "Dysart is no longer a member of this club," said Grandcourt quietly.
"I've told you that a dozen times." "All right, I'll ask you two dozen times more, if I choose," retorted Quest.

"Why not ?" And he gave him an ugly stare.
The man was just drunk enough to be quarrelsome.