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Frederic, Harold, 1856-1898

"The Market-Place"

We'll say that that is to be paid
back to you, as a separate transaction, and we'll put that
to one side. Now then, leaving that out of consideration,
what do you think you ought to have out of the winnings,
when we pull the thing off? Mind, I'm not thinking of your
2,000 vendor's shares----"
"No--I'm not thinking much of them, either," interposed Semple,
with a kind of dry significance.
"Oh, they'll be all right," Thorpe affirmed. He laughed
unconsciously as he did so. "No, what I want to get
at is your idea of what should come to you, as a bonus,
when I scoop the board."
"Twenty thousand pounds," said Semple, readily.
Thorpe's slow glance brightened a trifle. "I had
thought thirty would be a fairer figure," he remarked,
with an effort at simplicity.
The broker put out his under-lip. "You will find people
rather disposed to distrust a man who promises more than
he's asked," he remarked coldly.
"Yes--I know what you mean," Thorpe hurried to say,
flushing awkwardly, even though the remark was so undeserved;
"but it's in my nature. I'm full of the notion of
doing things for people that have done things for me.
That's the way I'm built. Why"--he halted to consider
the advisability of disclosing what he had promised to do
for Lord Plowden, and decided against it--"why, without you,
what would the whole thing have been worth to me? Take
one thing alone--the money for the applications--I could
have no more got at it than I could at the Crown Jewels
in the Tower.


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