“How many?”
“Is it here—”
“What night do you want 'em? Yes, sir, here's the place.”
McTeague gravely delivered himself of the formula he had been reciting for the last dozen hours.
“I want four seats for Monday night in the fourth row from the front, and on the right-hand side.”
“Right hand as you face the house or as you face the stage?” McTeague was dumfounded.
“I want to be on the right-hand side,” he insisted, stolidly; adding, “in order to be away from the drums.”
“Well, the drums are on the right of the orchestra as you face the stage,” shouted the other impatiently; “you want to the left, then, as you face the house.”
“I want to be on the right-hand side,” persisted the dentist.
Without a word the seller threw out four tickets with a magnificent, supercilious gesture.