"What's the name of the place?" Max asked.
"The name of the place?" Morris repeated.
"Yes," Max said, "the name of the town where the fellow comes from."
Morris scratched his head for a minute.
"I should remember the name of every little one-horse town where we got customers!" he said. "The name of the place don't matter, Max; it's got two thousand people living in it and practically only one store, because the way Sam Green is running his business now you couldn't call it a store at all."
Max rose from the table.
"I'll tell you the truth, Morris," he said; "what's the use wasting our time? The proposition ain't attractive. I was born and raised in a one-horse town upstate; and, even though I ain't been back for twenty years, I know what it's like. You'll have to excuse me."
"But, Max—" Morris commenced.
"I needn't tell you that I'm more than grateful to you, Morris," Max concluded; "and if ever I want to dispose of my diamonds you shall have first chance."
He shook Morris's limp and unresisting hand and returned at once to the showroom of Kleiman & Elenbogen.