Dillon said, “That old can ain’t worth more’n eight hundred bucks, an’ you know it.”
Mabley said, “Two thousand.”
Myra shrugged. “Let’s go,” she said. “This guy’s crazy.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know his game right. Listen, I’ll stretch a point an’ buy it from you for a grand.”
Mabley shook his head. “No use to me, mister. It’s givin’ it away at two.”
Myra wandered away. “Come on, you can see he won’t be reasonable.”
Dillon said, “You’re right. I guess we’ll leave it.” He walked over to where Myra was pretending to examine another car.
Mabley hesitated. “Well, seein’ you’re sold on this bus, I’ll let you have it for nineteen hundred. That’s rock bottom.”
Dillon took Myra’s arm and walked her to the door. “These small-time traders are nuts,” he said. “Nineteen hundred! What a crack!”
Mabley came after them. “Wait a minute. Don’t you be in such a hurry.”