"—to c'nserve investment rep'sented by this stock upon sound basis rather than th' spec'lative policy of larger an' fluc'chating div'dends yours ver' truly what time's 'at game called?"
Thus concluded Breede, with a sudden noisy putting away of papers in an open drawer at his side.
Bean looked up at him, in open-mouthed fear for his sanity.
"Hello, Pops!" said the flapper.
"'Lo, Sis! What time's 'at game called?"
"Three," said Bean, still alarmed.
Breede looked at his watch.
"Jus' got time to make it."
He arose from the desk. Bean arose. The flapper arose.
"Take y' up in car," said Breede, most amazingly.