"Your idea is that we could settle for less than a jury would give him?"
The young man laughed. "A jury'd give him four or five thousand, maybe more. Doctor says the injury is permanent. I've settled more than one like it for three or four hundred."
"The man won't be able to work again?"
"Won't be good for much."
"And we're responsible!" Bonbright said it to himself, not to the young man. "Is this thing done often—settling these things for—what we can squeeze them down to?"
"Of course." The young man was calloused. His job was to settle claims and save money. His value increased as his settlements were small.
"Where's Hammil?"
"At the General Hospital."
Bonbright got up and went to the closet for his hat. "Come on," he said.
"You're not going up there, are you?"