Dick looked—and looked again. He leaned over and studied it intently, his eyes widening and shining. Suddenly with a queer gesture he rose and went to a window. He stood there, back turned to David, for several minutes.
When he turned a flush was on his face and he found it hard to meet
David's questioning eyes.
"Davy, it's good. It's damn good. It's so much better than mine that I can't find a comparison. I know just enough architecture to be sure of that. I take off my hat to you. But it's fair to tell you—it won't win."
"Why not?"
"I'm going to win."
"With that?" David nodded toward Dick's plans.
"With that."
"How?"
"I'm giving old Bixby what he wants, and I'm—" Dick made gestures of pulling wires.
David was silent.