'A real shop. Sloane Street. A hundred and eighty thousand superficial feet. Cost a quarter of a million. The finest shop in the world!'
The youth started to his feet.
'I've never had any luck,' said he, gazing at Hugo. 'But I believe you really do understand what a shop ought to be.'
'I believe I do,' Hugo concurred. 'And I want one.'
'You shall have it!' said the youth.
And Hugo had it, though not for anything like the sum he had named.
The four frontages of his land exceeded in all a quarter of a mile. The frontage to Sloane Street alone was five hundred feet. It was this glorious stretch of expensive earth which inflamed the architect's imagination.
'But we must set back the façade twenty feet at least,' he said; and added, 'That will give you a good pavement.'
'Young man,' cried Hugo, 'do you know how much this land has stood me in a foot?'
'I neither know nor care,' answered the youth. 'All I say is, what's the use of putting up a decent building unless people can see it?'