I excused myself to Tevkin and took Margolis to the quieter side of the Avenue
"Glad to see you, upon my word," he said. "Well, let bygones by bygones.
It's about time we forgot it all."
"There is nothing to forget."
"Honest?"
"Honest! Is that idiotic notion still sticking in your brain?"
"Why, no. Not at all. May I not live till to-morrow if it does. You are not angry at me, are you? Come, now, say that you are not."
I smiled and shrugged my shoulders
"Well, shake hands, then."
We did and he offered to sell me a "parcel." As I did not care for it, he went on to talk of the real-estate market in general. There was a restaurant on that side of the block—The Curb Café we used to call it—so we went in, ordered something, and he continued to talk. He was plainly striving to sound me, in the hope of "hanging on" to some of my deals. Of a sudden he said: "Say, you must think I'm still jealous? May I not live till to-morrow if I am." And to prove that he was not he added: "Come, Levinsky, come up to the house and let's be friends again, as we used to be. I have always wished you well." He gave me his address. "Will you come?"