"I should estimate our net liability in the burned district at about $700,000," he said unemotionally.
Mr. Murch leaned forward in his chair.
"And the net surplus of the company is—?" he asked menacingly.
"You know what it is. It's half a million, roughly."
"Well, will you tell me what in the devil you mean by putting this company in a position to lose more money than it has clear?"
O'Connor, beyond caring now, actually smiled.
"Fortunes of war, Mr. Murch. You wanted a leading position in Boston, if you'll remember. I gave it to you."
"I didn't want any such position as my present one," rejoined Mr.
Murch, in frigid tones.
"I didn't either, if you come to that," retorted O'Connor, promptly.
The financier's irritation was increased by this unexpectedly reckless attitude on the part of the man who should, he felt, be abased in sackcloth before him. He regarded the other with surprise, through his indignation.