"Here are the figures--for the last four years. I think you'll agree that I couldn't ask less than seventy thousand."
Through the smoke of his cigar old Heythorp had digested those figures slowly, Joe Pillin feeling his teeth and sucking lozenges the while; then he said:
"Sixty thousand! And out of that you pay me ten per cent., if I get it through for you. Take it or leave it."
"My dear Sylvanus, that's almost-cynical."
"Too good a price--you'll never get it without me."
"But a--but a commission! You could never disclose it!"
"Arrange that all right. Think it over. Freights'll go lower yet. Have some port."
"No, no! Thank you. No! So you think freights will go lower?"