They were laughing again. Mr. Sharrow noticed them from his private office and congratulated himself on having Shotwell in his employment.
“When may I see a house?” inquired Palla, settling her black-gloved hands in her black fox muff.
“Immediately, if you like.”
“How wonderful!”
He took out his note-book, glanced through several pages, asked her carelessly what rent she cared to pay, made a note of it, and resumed his study of the note-book.
“The East Side?” he inquired, glancing at her with curiosity not entirely professional.
“I prefer it.”
From his note-book he read to her the descriptions and situations of several twenty-foot houses in the zone between Fifth and Third Avenues.
“Shall we go to see some of them, Mr. Shotwell? Have you, perhaps, time this morning?”