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Frederic, Harold, 1856-1898

"The Market-Place"

I myself said
to you that you were ridiculously exaggerating what you
called your obligation to me. It was you who insisted upon
presenting me with 100,000 shares."
"Well, they are here ready for you," said Thorpe,
with calculated coldness. "You can have them whenever
you please. I promised them to you, and set them
aside for you. You can take them away with you now,
if you like. What are you kicking up this fuss for,
then? Upon my word!--you come here and suggest to me
that I made promises to you which I've broken!"
Plowden looked hard at him, as he turned over in his mind
the purport of these words. "I see what you are doing,"
he said then. "You turn over to me 100,000 vendor's
deferred shares. Thanks! I have already 1,000 of them.
I keep them in the same box with my father's Confederate bonds."
"What the hell do you mean?" Thorpe broke in with
explosive warmth, lifting himself in his chair.
"Oh, come now, Thorpe," Plowden retorted, "let's get
this talk on an intelligent, common-sense footing."
He had regained something of his self-control, and keenly
put forward now to help him all his persuasive graces
of eye and speech. He seated himself once more.
"I'm convinced that you want to be good to me.
Of course you do! If I've seemed here for a minute or two
to think otherwise, it was because I misunderstood things.


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