“Sure! And an old house on Thirty-sixth street that we can’t afford to heat properly in the winter; and where my mother and sister do their own housework.”
“But the best society in New York is open to you, if you had the money to take your place in it. The old society. That’s what I have my eye on.”
“And where are we going to get the money?” asked Bristed.
“From me.”
“No! by God!” said Bristed. “We haven’t fallen as low as that!”
“Go ahead!” said Joe smiling. “Shoot off your fine sentiments, and then we’ll get down to business.”
Bristed became incoherent in his indignation. “What do you think I am? Do you think I’d lend my mother and sister to. . . . There are some things you don’t understand smart as you are. Ah! I’m not going to talk to you. . . !” He stood up.
“Sit down,” said Joe quietly. “You can always turn me down, you know. Only a fool turns down a proposition before he hears it.”
Bristed sat down looking rather like a fool.
“Now, briefly,” said Joe, “without any skyrockets or red fire, what is the objection?”