HORNBLOWER. Well, Chearlie?
CHARLES. Not got it.
HORNBLOWER. Not!
CHARLES. I'd practically got her to say she'd sell at three thousand five hundred, when that fellow Dawker turned up.
HORNBLOWER. That bull-terrier of a chap! Why, he was here a while ago. Oh—ho! So that's it!
CHARLES. I heard him gallop up. He came straight for the old lady, and got her away. What he said I don't know; but she came back looking wiser than an owl; said she'd think it over, thought she had other views.
HORNBLOWER. Did ye tell her she might have her price?
CHARLES. Practically I did.
HORNBLOWER. Well?
CHARLES. She thought it would be fairer to put it up to auction. There were other enquiries. Oh! She's a leery old bird—reminds me of one of those pictures of Fate, don't you know.