"All right, Abe," he said. "I give you your chance, Abe, and you wouldn't take it."
"What d'ye mean, Mawruss?" Abe asked.
"I mean, Abe, that I will go into this alone by myself, and only one thing I beg of you, Abe: don't come to me in six months' time and claim that I wouldn't let you in on a good thing. I have done my best."
The air of simple dignity with which Morris delivered his ultimatum was marred to some extent by a raucous laugh from Abe.
"Don't do me no favors, Mawruss," he jeered. "All I got to say is that if I was you, Mawruss, I would get this here archy-teck and B. Rashkin, and also your brother-in-law, Ferdy, together, and I would make 'em an offer of settlement for, say, three thousand dollars, Mawruss. Because the way I figure it out, this thing would stand you in as much money as that and a whole lot of worry, too."
"You shouldn't be so generous with your advice, Abe," Morris retorted.
"Oh, I don't charge you nothing for it, Mawruss," Abe said, as he turned to the "Arrival of Buyers" column, and, for lack of appropriate rejoinder, Morris snorted indignantly and banged the show-room door behind him.
For the remainder of the afternoon Abe's face wore a malicious grin. It was there when Morris left to keep his appointment at Henry D. Feldman's office, and when he returned four hours later the malice, if anything, had intensified.
"Well, Mawruss," Abe cried, "I suppose you fixed it all up?"
"It don't go so quick, Abe," Morris replied. His manner was as cheerful as only that of a man who has struggled hard to repress a fit of violent profanity can be—for the meeting at Henry D. Feldman's office had been fraught with many nerve-racking incidents. Imprimis, there had been Feldman's retainer, a generous one, and then had come the discussion of the building-loan agreement with Milton M. Sugarman, attorney for the I. O. M. A.