"Leave it to me, Bob. I'll be guided by the spur of the moment."
"I need a bookkeeper at my store," Robert said, ruminating.
"I promise you that Miss Noir will soon be open to offers."
"See here, Abbott, I can't afford to lose any chances on this thing. I'm going into that house before this night passes, and I'm going to see the feathers fly. No—I don't want Mrs. Gregory to learn about it, any more than you or Fran; but I'll limit the thing to Grace—"
"She'd tell Mrs. Gregory."
"Don't you say anything against Grace Noir, Abbott, for though you are my friend—"
"I say nothing against her; I say only that she's a woman."
"Well," Clinton reluctantly agreed, "I reckon she is. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll go with you into that wolf's den, and I'll let you do all the talking; and if you can manage things in half an hour—just thirty minutes by my watch—so that Grace leaves there to-morrow, I'll leave you to steer things, and it's mum for keeps. But I'm going to be present, though I don't want to say one word to that—that—But if he don't crawl out of his wool far enough to suit the purpose, in short, if he don't cave, and in half an hour—"
"Half an hour will do the business," said Abbott stoutly. "Come!"
"Be sure to call for Mr. Gregory by himself," said Robert, as they walked swiftly back to the Gregory residence. "If Grace comes into the room while we're talking, or Mrs. Gregory—"