“Hullo, Joe,” said Orde with a slight constraint, “sorry to hear you've been under the weather. You don't look very sick now.”
“I'm better,” replied Newmark, briefly; “this is my first appearance.”
“Too bad you got sick just at that time,” said Orde; “we needed you.”
“So I hear. You may rest assured I'd have been there if possible.”
“Sure thing,” said Orde, heartily, his slight resentment dissipating, as always, in the presence of another's personality. “Well, we had a lively time, you bet, all right; and got through about by the skin of our teeth.” He arose and walked over to Newmark's desk, on the edge of which he perched. “It's cost us considerable; and it's going to cost us a lot more, I'll have to get an extension on those notes.”
“What's that?” asked Newmark, quickly.
Orde picked up a paper knife and turned it slowly between his fingers.
“I don't believe I'll be able to meet those notes. So many things have happened—”
“But,” broke in Newmark, “the firm certainly cannot do so. I've been relying on your assurance that you would take them up personally. Our resources are all tied up.”
“Can't we raise anything more on the Northern Peninsula timber?” asked Orde.