Part 58 (1/2)

”Places is all the same to me now,” Gurin said--”women, too, Mr.

Perlmutter. I a.s.sure you, Mr. Perlmutter, since the day I am leaving Minsk one woman is the same as another to me. I ain't got no use for none of 'em.”

”_Geh weg_, Gurin,” Morris cried impatiently. ”You talk like a fool. Just because one lady goes back on you, understand me, is that a reason you wouldn't got no use for no ladies at all? You might just as well say, Gurin, because one customer busts up on you, y'understand, you would never try to sell another customer so long as you live. Now this here Mrs. Gladstein, Gurin, is a lady which while I never seen this here lady _im_ Russland, y'understand, if you will just come out to Bridgetown with me, Gurin, I give you a guaranty Russland wouldn't figure at all.”

Gurin shook his head sadly.

”You don't know me, Mr. Perlmutter,” he said. ”While I am going with plenty _Schatchens_ to see young ladies already, Mr. Perlmutter, I a.s.sure you my heart ain't in it. People gets the impression because I am a swell dresser, Mr. Perlmutter, that I am looking to get married; but believe me, Mr. Perlmutter, it ain't so.”

”Then what do you go for, Gurin?” Morris asked. ”_Schatchens_ don't like to fool away their time no more as I do, Gurin; and you could take it from me, no girl is going to the trouble to fix herself up and make a nice supper for you and the _Schatchen_ simply for the pleasure of seeing a swell dresser, Gurin.”

”That's just the point, Mr. Perlmutter,” Gurin said. ”A feller which runs a store like this one and eats his meals in restaurants, understand me, must got to get a little home cooking once in a while. Ain't it?”

”Why not get married and be done with it?” Morris retorted; ”and then you could get home cooking all the time.”

Once more Gurin shook his head.

”Without love, Mr. Perlmutter, marriage is nix,” he said.

”_Schmooes!_” Morris exclaimed. ”Do you think when I got married I loved my wife, Gurin? _Oser_ a _stuck_. And to-day yet I am crazy about her.

With a business man, Gurin, love comes after marriage.”

B. Gurin rose wearily to his feet and shot his cuffs by way of showing impatience.

”What is the use talking, Mr. Perlmutter?” he protested. ”When I want to get married I would get married--otherwise not.”

He flecked away an imaginary grain of dust from the lapel of his coat and walked slowly toward the door.

”Are you going home on the New Haven road _oder_ the Harlem road?” he asked.

Morris scowled, and his indignation lent such force to the gesture with which he put on his hat that the impact sounded like a blow on a tambourine.

”_Schon gut_, Gurin,” he said. ”I am through with you.”

He paused at the doorway and lit a cigar.

”And one thing I could tell you, Gurin,” he concluded. ”Either you would send us a check the first thing to-morrow morning, _oder_ we would give your account to our lawyers, and that's all there is to it.”

He puffed away at his cigar as he trudged down the street, and he had nearly reached the corner when he heard a familiar voice shouting: ”Mr.

Perlmutter!” He turned to view B. Gurin hastening after him.

”Well, Gurin,” he grunted, ”what you want now?”

Gurin stopped and gasped for breath, and Morris's heart gave a triumphant leap as he noted the anxiety displayed on B. Gurin's clean-shaven features.

”Speak up, Gurin,” he said; ”I got to get my train.”

Gurin smiled in surrender.