“Madam,” he began, “its qualities are such that I am completely undone. Such a laundry, such storerooms, such coal-bins, never were on sea or land. I shall not draw a peaceful breath until they are mine. Believe me, madam; never, never in this world. You will do me an irreparable injury if you refuse to sell me this house. You don’t care two pins about it. I do. Sell it to me, then. It is small, but I shall give you sixteen thousand dollars for it. Now, this minute.” And drawing a cheque-book from his pocket he uncapped his fountain-pen. “What name shall I put down?”
Mrs. Derwall was too much surprised by the suddenness of his onslaught to answer.
“Isn’t it a fair price?” inquired her companion. “If you don’t think so I am sure we shall have no trouble in coming to terms.”
“Yes,” uttered Mrs. Derwall slowly. “But——”
The stranger cut her off.
“Of course I have no idea of trying to force you to do what you don’t want. So far as that goes, however, I fancy that you’re pretty well able to take care of your end of a bargain. But it strikes me as rather a good deal for you. You can recoup yourself for Christmas, and then you can go to Palm Beach or Cairo or Zanzibar or somewhere for the bad part of the winter, while I am freezing here.”
“Why, when would you want to come in?” asked Mrs. Derwall.
“Let’s see.” He began calculating on his fingers. “To-day is Thursday. Friday, Saturday, Sunday—I want to come in Monday. Next Monday. That will give me time to get settled before Wednesday.”
Mrs. Derwall all but shrieked.
“Why, my dear man, have you lost your mind? I never heard of such a thing in my life. It would take me from now till then to get ready if I began this minute. And I have a week-end party on and couldn’t begin to touch a thing till Tuesday at the very earliest. I like your blandness!”