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.
HORNBLOWER. Auction! Well, if it's not gone we'll get it yet. That damned little Dawker! I've had a row with Hillcrist.