"But nothing!" Abe roared. "Why should you get all of a sudden so sparsam mit our money, Mawruss? You talk like we would be new beginners on East Broadway already."
"But, Abe—" Morris protested again.
"'S enough, Mawruss," Abe interrupted. "I heard enough from you already. Only one thing I got to tell you: if we lose a chance of getting some business from a lady which you could really say I know her well enough that it's a shame we ain't sold her nothing already even, don't blame me. That's all I got to say."
He walked away to the cutting room, while Morris sat down in the nearest chair, dazed to the point of temporary aphasia. For five minutes he sat still, endeavouring to trace the intricacies of a discussion that had put him so decisively in the wrong, and he was still pondering the matter when the elevator door opened and B. Gurin alighted.
"How do you do, Mr. Perlmutter?" Gurin cried.
Morris grunted inarticulately and made no attempt to take his visitor's proffered hand.
"Did you got any news for me?" Gurin asked.
Morris rose to his feet.
"Yes, I got some news for you," he said. "I got news for you that Mrs. Gladstein is engaged to be married to a feller by the name Asimof."
He looked absently at a sample rack upon which reposed the very newspaper that contained the advertisement.