“Do not fear the worst,” he whispered; “I may save him yet.”
Chapter Nine.
Two Days Earlier.
“Well, what news?” said Wrigley, as Jessop Reed entered his gloomy office. “Bah! what a dandy you are! Why, you spend enough on barbers and buttonholes to keep you from borrowing money.”
“And you spend enough on ballet-girls to keep you from making profits by lending,” retorted Jessop. “All right, my Jonathan,” said Wrigley.
“All right, my David,” replied Jessop. “Let me see: David was a Jew.”
“Whilst I am not,” said Wrigley sharply.
“Oh, of course not. No one would suppose Wrigley to be an Israelitish name. There, don’t set up all your feathers, man, and look so indignant because I suggested that you belonged to the chosen race. There are good Jews.”