"The house which I am living in it," Max replied—"on Linden Boulevard, Burgess Park."
"On Linden Boulevard, Burgess Park!" Flugel repeated. "Why, then it's the same house—ain't it, Lubliner?"
Elkan nodded, and as he did so Flugel struck the desk a tremendous blow with his fist.
"Fine!" he ejaculated.
"Fine!" Kovner repeated. "What the devil you are talking about, fine? Do you think it's fine I should got to live a whole year in a house which the least it must got to be spent on it is for plumbing a hundred dollars and for painting a couple hundred more?"
"That's all right," Flugel declared with enthusiasm. "It ain't so bad as it looks; because if you can show that you got a right to stay in that house for the rest of the year, understand me, I'll make a proposition to you."
"Show it?" Kovner exclaimed. "I don't got to show it, because I couldn't help myself, Mr. Flugel. Glaubmann claims that I made a verbal lease for one year, and he's right. I was fool enough to do so."
Flugel glanced inquiringly at Polatkin and Scheikowitz.
"How about that?" he asked. "The contract don't say nothing about a year's lease."
"I know it don't," Elkan replied, "because when our lawyer raises the question about the tenant Glaubmann says he could get him out at any time."