“Thanks for the compliment to your nieces,” said Leida, with a roguish curtsey, as she left the room.
Prigson and Van Arlen were once more alone.
“Prigson,” said the official, “I must repeat to you candidly what I have already told you—you’re not playing a fair game.”
“Do you think I want to turn your daughters’ heads?”
“I didn’t mean that—your enterprise, which now seems about to succeed——”
“Say, which is going to succeed; but let that matter rest just now.”
“Surely you have a conscience, Prigson?”
“An amazingly big one, Van Arlen; and, between ourselves, I think it’s made of some elastic substance, most likely of the same material as your Minister’s and your friend Regenstein’s.”
“Prigson! Prigson! a time will come——”
“Dear me! Van Arlen, what a platitude!”