To grasp it firmly in my hands and tear it
from my neck was the work of a moment, and then in a spirit of rage I
turned upon my companion.
"See here," I cried, "I've had quite enough of you. I can't make you out,
and I can't say that I want to. You know where the door is--you will
oblige me by putting it to its proper use."
[Illustration]
"Sit down, Hiram," said he, "and don't be foolish and ungrateful. You are
behaving in a most extraordinary fashion, destroying your clothing and
acting like a madman generally. What was the use of ripping up a handsome
tie like that?"
"I despise loud hues. Red is a jockey's color," I answered.
"But you did not destroy the red tie," said he, with a smile. "You tore up
your blue one--look. There it is on the floor. The red one you still have
on."
Investigation showed the truth of my visitor's assertion. That flaunting
streamer of anarchy still made my neck infamous, and before me on the
floor, an almost unrecognizable mass of shreds, lay my cherished cerulean
tie.
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