“These are the photographs of my real friends,” said Leonore, “except yours. I want you to give me one to complete my rack.”
“I haven’t had a photograph taken in eight years, and am afraid I have none left.”
“Then you must sit.”
“Very well. But it must be an exchange.” Peter almost trembled at his boldness, and at the thought of a possible granting.
“Do you want mine?”
“Very much.”
“I have dozens,” said Leonore, going over to her desk, and pulling open a drawer. “I’m very fond of being taken. You may have your choice.”
“That’s very difficult,” said Peter, looking at the different varieties. “Each has something the rest haven’t. You don’t want to be generous, and let me have these four?”
“Oh, you greedy!” said Leonore, laughing. “Yes, if you’ll do something I’m going to ask you.”
Peter pocketed the four. “That is a bargain,” he said, with a brashness simply disgraceful in a good business man. “Now, what is it?”