"Ya, ya. Oh, my—"
"We—we're in big trouble, Max. Business trouble. The store, ever—ever since the traction—it ain't been the same."
"I know, little Pearlie. I—"
"Wait a minute, Max. We—we ain't what you maybe think we are. To-morrow two weeks we got to meet creditors and extension notes. We can't pay with even twenty cents on the dollar. We're gone under, Max!"
"I—"
"We ain't got it to meet them with. Papa—if a man like papa couldn't make it go nobody could—"
"Such a man, Mr. Teitlebaum, so honest, so—"
"Shh-h-h, mamma."
"It's our—my fault, Max. He was afraid even last year, but I—even then I was the one that wanted the expense of the city. Mamma didn't want it—he didn't—it—was me—I—I—"
"My fault, too, Poil—ach, Gott, my fault! How I drove him! How I drove him!"