“Still after it,” said Allison, and talked of other matters.
Jim Sargent returned, and glancing into the little reception tête-à-tête as he passed, saw Allison and came back.
“I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” wondered Allison.
“We broke up in a row,” laughed Jim Sargent. “Clark and Chisholm were willing to accept your price, but the rest of us listened to Doctor Boyd and Nicholas Van Ploon, and fell. We insist on our cathedral, and Doctor Boyd’s plan seems the best way to get it, though even that may necessitate a four or five years’ delay.”
“What’s his plan?” asked Allison.
“Rebuilding,” returned Sargent. “We can put up tenements good enough to pass the building inspectors and to last fifteen years. With the same rents we are now receiving, we can offer them better quarters, and, as Doctor Boyd suggested, redeem ourselves from some of the disgrace of this whole proceeding. Clever, sensible idea, I think.”
Gail was leaning forward, with her fingers clasped around her knee; her brown eyes had widened, and a little red spot had appeared in either cheek; her red lips were half parted, as she looked up in wonder at her Uncle Jim.
“Is that the plan upon which they have decided?” and Allison looked at his watch.
“Well, hardly,” frowned Sargent. “We couldn’t swing Clark and Chisholm. At the last minute they suggested that we might build lofts, and the impending fracas seemed too serious to take up just now, so we’ve tabled the whole thing.”
Allison smiled, and slipped his watch back in his pocket.