He stopped in time and forced himself to smile amiably.
"Yes, Mr. Rashkin," Abe went on, as he imperceptibly edged away from the crowd. "Would you believe it, that feller tells me this morning he's got already a fine offer for the house?"
"You don't tell me," Rashkin said as they approached one of the salesroom doors. He too was edging away from the crowd and congratulated himself that Abe had made no further bid. "I'm glad he should get it. For mein part, Mr. Potash, I would be glad to sell my house, too."
Here he made a rapid mental calculation and arrived
approximately at the price that would yield Morris a profit.
"I had myself an offer of forty-six seven-fifty for my house, Mr. Potash," he hazarded.
Abe was ostentatiously surprised.
"So!" he said, with an elaborate assumption of recovering his composure.
"Yes, Mr. Potash," Rashkin went on. He was beginning to feel that the figure was too low. "That's the offer I received and I wouldn't take a cent less than forty-eight."
"Let me see," Abe mused, as they paused in front of a bakery and lunchroom a few doors down the street. "You got a first mortgage thirty-three thousand dollars, and that would give you a pretty big equity there, Mr. Rashkin."