Waiter, two Scotch highballs.'
McCay was in no mood to subscribe to this stony-hearted view.
'I tell you,' he said, 'I'm _sorry_ for Archie! I'm _sorry_
for the poor old chap. And I'm more than sorry for the girl.'
'Well, I don't see what we can do,' said Sigsbee. 'We can hardly be
expected to foozle on purpose, just to let Archie show off before his
girl.'
McCay paused in the act of lighting his cigar, as one smitten with a
great thought.
'Why not?' he said. 'Why not, Sigsbee? Sigsbee, you've hit it.'
'Eh?'
'You have! I tell you, Sigsbee, you've solved the whole thing. Archie's
such a bully good fellow, why not give him a benefit? Why not let him
win this championship? You aren't going to tell me that you care
whether you win a tin medal or not?'
Sigsbee's benevolence was expanding under the influence of the Scotch
highball and his cigar. Little acts of kindness on Archie's part, here
a cigar, there a lunch, at another time seats for the theatre, began to
rise to the surface of his memory like rainbow-coloured bubbles. He
wavered.
'Yes, but what about the rest of the men?' he said. 'There will be a
dozen or more in for the medal.'
'We can square them,' said McCay confidently. 'We will broach the
matter to them at a series of dinners at which we will be joint hosts.
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