“Shall you be at the hotel this evening, Mr. Perkins?” added Dick Ralston, who found it hard to give up his design upon his new acquaintance.
“I don’t know. I haven’t made any plans.”
“I was thinking I might call upon you.”
“Don’t trouble yourself, Mr. Ralston. Probably you would not find me in.”
Mr. Perkins was a tolerably shrewd man. He had “sized up” the gambler, and decided that he did not care to become any better acquainted with him.
“Just as you say,” returned Dick Ralston, looking discomfited. “I thought perhaps I could make it pleasant for you.”
“If I find I have time I can call at your place of business,” said the man from Minneapolis, with a shrewd glance at the gambler.
“I have no place of business,” returned Ralston, rather awkwardly. “I am a—a capitalist, and sometimes speculate in real estate. Don’t I, Mullins?”
“Of course. By the way, I forgot to tell you that I have four lots on Ninety-sixth Street which would make a good investment.”
“Ninety-sixth Street! Ahem, rather far uptown. What’s the figure?”