Part 40 (1/2)
”If you insist, I'll make it five. Not more.”
”Well, ten, then?”
”Five!”
”Suppose,” said Ginger insinuatingly, ”I said seven?”
”I never saw anyone like you for haggling,” said Sally with disapproval.
”Listen! Six. And that's my last word.”
”Six?”
”Six.”
Ginger did sums in his head.
”But that would only work out at three hundred dollars a year. It isn't enough.”
”What do you know about it? As if I hadn't been handling this sort of deal in my life. Six! Do you agree?”
”I suppose so.”
”Then that's settled. Is this man you talk about in New York?”
”No, he's down on Long Island at a place on the south sh.o.r.e.”
”I mean, can you get him on the 'phone and clinch the thing?”
”Oh, yes. I know his address, and I suppose his number's in the book.”
”Then go off at once and settle with him before somebody else snaps him up. Don't waste a minute.”
Ginger paused at the door.
”I say, you're absolutely sure about this?”'
”Of course.”
”I mean to say...”
”Get on,” said Sally.
2
The window of Sally's sitting-room looked out on to a street which, while not one of the city's important arteries, was capable, nevertheless, of affording a certain amount of entertainment to the observer: and after Ginger had left, she carried the morning paper to the window-sill and proceeded to divide her attention between a third reading of the fight-report and a lazy survey of the outer world. It was a beautiful day, and the outer world was looking its best.
She had not been at her post for many minutes when a taxi-cab stopped at the apartment-house, and she was surprised and interested to see her brother Fillmore heave himself out of the interior. He paid the driver, and the cab moved off, leaving him on the sidewalk casting a large shadow in the suns.h.i.+ne. Sally was on the point of calling to him, when his behaviour became so odd that astonishment checked her.