“Why it’s worth double that!” exclaimed John Boland.
“Never mind that. It’s yours,” repeated Grogan. “I’ll give two thousand for my peace of mind any day.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Not yet—but I’m headed that way. Take it at two thousand and I’ll love you, John.”
“All right.”
“But, Governor,” protested Harry, “don’t you know—”
“Now don’t let a fool reform wave scare you,” burst out the father irritably. “Did you ever see a vice investigation get anywhere? Never! Just a lot of talk and—letters.”
Miss Masters appeared with a package of letters in her hands. “Mail, Mr. Boland,” she said. She began sorting the letters. “Four for you, Mr. Boland,” she went on, “and a special for Mr. Harry Boland.”
Grogan had been watching her intently. He breathed deeply and muttered: “Sure and I’m an old fool. Why should I be afraid of letters? Who could write—”
Miss Masters interrupted. “And one for you, Mr. Grogan,” she said casually.