"What?"
"I should say that I'm keepin' 'em for a party I know."
"Anything else to show me?" grunted Tomlin, caressing the Bow glaze with a dirty but loving finger. "Your father mentioned a mirror-black jar, K'ang He period."
"Keepin' that too," replied Quinney quietly.
"Sold it?"
"Not yet."
Quinney smiled mysteriously.
"Then what's up? Ain't my money as good as the next man's?"
"If you want a plain answer, Mr. Tomlin, it ain't—to me."
"Ho! What d'ye mean?"