“Salary?” he cried. “What about it? What's the matter with it? You get it, don't you?”
“Yes, sir, but——”
“Well? Don't stand there like an idiot. What is it?”
“It's too much.”
Mr. Fineberg's brain reeled. It was improbable that the millennium could have arrived with a jerk; on the other hand, he had distinctly heard one of his clerks complain that his salary was too large. He pinched himself.
“Say that again,” he said.
“If you could see your way to reduce it, sir——”
It occurred to Mr. Fineberg for one instant that his subordinate was endeavoring to be humorous, but a glance at Roland's face dispelled that idea.
“Why do you want it reduced?”
“Please, sir, I'm going to be married.”