"Go wi' me—wi' me?" he stammered. "You—go wi' me to Hell's Kitchen—to Mulligan's Dump—you! Say, what kind o' song and dance are you giving me, anyway? Aw—quit yer kiddin', sir!"
"But I mean it."
"On—on d' level?"
"On the level."
"Holy Gee!" and Spike relapsed into wide-eyed, voiceless wonder.
"Is it a go?" enquired Mr. Ravenslee.
"But—but, say—" stammered the boy, glancing from the elegant figure in the chair around the luxurious room and back again, "but you're a—a—"
"Just a poor, disconsolate, lonely—er—guy!"
"What!" cried Spike, staring around him again, "with all this? Oh, yes, you're homeless and starving, you are—I don't think!"
"Is it a go?"