He looked from Abe to Morris and beamed with satisfaction. They were in a condition of partial hypnotism, which became complete after Pasinsky had concluded a ten-minutes' discourse on cloak and suit affairs. He spoke with a fluency and emphasis that left Abe and Morris literally gasping like landed fish, although, to be sure, the manner of his discourse far outshone the matter.
But his auditors were much too dazed to be critical. They were cognizant of only one circumstance: If this huge personage with his wonderful magnetism
and address couldn't sell goods, nobody could.
Pasinsky rose to his feet. He was six feet in height, and weighed over two hundred pounds.
"Well, gentlemen," he said, towering over his proposed employers, "think it over and see if you want me. I'll be back at noon."
"Hold on a minute," Abe cried. "You ain't told us nothing about who you worked for last. What were all them references you was telling us about?"
Pasinsky regarded Abe with a smile of amusement.
"I'll tell you, Mr. Potash, it's like this," he explained. "Of course you want to know who I worked for and all about it."
Abe nodded.
"But the way I feel about it," Marks Pasinsky went on, "is that if you advance my expenses for two weeks, understand me, and I go out with your sample line, understand me, if you don't owe me a thousand dollars commissions at the end of that time, then I don't want to work for you at all."