Bills had taken off his gold glasses and slowly lowered them to the end of their fine gold chain; he rubbed the little red marks the glasses left on the bridge of his nose, and in his manner there was an uncertainty that seemed unexpected by Gibbs.
"I was about to suggest, Mr. Gibbs," said Bills, placing his fingers tip to tip, "that you see our Mr. Wilson; he manages the mail-order department, now."
"Not for mine," said Gibbs decisively. "I've always done business with you. I don't know this fellow Wilson."
Bills, choosing to take it as a tribute, smiled and went on:
"I think we're fully stocked just now, but--how would a sixty per cent. proposition strike you?"
"No," said Gibbs, as decisively as before.
"No?" repeated Bills.
"No," Gibbs went on, "seventy-five."
Bills thought a moment, absently lifting the rustling sheets.
"How many did you say there were?"