Sign here… and here.’
McNiel had stumped over to the desk and was leaning over the papers. Baldwin felt that Nellie was trying to make a sign to him. He kept his eyes down. After they had left he noticed her purse, a little leather purse with pansies burned on the back, on the corner of the desk. There was a tap on the glass door. He opened.
‘Why wouldn’t you look at me?’ she said breathlessly low.
‘How could I with him here.’ He held the purse out to her.
She put her arms round his neck and kissed him hard on the mouth. ‘What are we goin to do? Shall I come in this afternoon? Gus’ll be liquorin up to get himself sick again now he’s out of the hospital.’
‘No I cant Nellie… Business… business… I’m busy every minute.’
‘Oh yes you are… All right have it your own way.’ She slammed the door.
Baldwin sat at his desk biting his knuckles without seeing the pile of papers he was staring at. ‘I’ve got to cut it out,’ he said aloud and got to his feet. He paced back and forth across the narrow office looking at the shelves of lawbooks and the Gibson girl calendar over the telephone and the dusty square of sunlight by the window. He looked at his watch. Lunchtime. He drew the palm of a hand over his forehead and went to the telephone.
‘Rector 1237… Mr Sandbourne there?… Say Phil suppose I come by for you for lunch? Do you want to go out right now?… Sure… Say Phil I clinched it, I got the milkman his damages. I’m pleased as the dickens. I’ll set you up to a regular lunch on the strength of it… So long…’
He came away from the telephone smiling, took his hat off its hook, fitted it carefully on his head in front of the little mirror over the hatrack, and hurried down the stairs.
On the last flight he met Mr Emery of Emery & Emery who had their offices on the first floor.
‘Well Mr Baldwin how’s things?’ Mr Emery of Emery & Emery was a flatfaced man with gray hair and eyebrows and a protruding wedgeshaped jaw. ‘Pretty well sir, pretty well.’
‘They tell me you are doing mighty well… Something about the New York Central Railroad.’
‘Oh Simsbury and I settled it out of court.’
‘Humph,’ said Mr Emery of Emery & Emery.
As they were about to part in the street Mr Emery said suddenly ‘Would you care to dine with me and my wife some time?’
‘Why… er… I’d be delighted.’
‘I like to see something of the younger fellows in the profession you understand… Well I’ll drop you a line… Some evening next week. It would give us a chance to have a chat.’
Baldwin shook a blueveined hand in a shinystarched cuff and went off down Maiden Lane hustling with a springy step through the noon crowd. On Pearl Street he climbed a steep flight of black stairs that smelt of roasting coffee and knocked on a groundglass door.
‘Come in,’ shouted a bass voice. A swarthy man lanky in his shirtsleeves strode forward to meet him. ‘Hello George, thought you were never comin’. I’m hongry as hell.’
‘Phil I’m going to set you up to the best lunch you ever ate in your life.’
‘Well I’m juss waitin’ to be set.’
Phil Sandbourne put on his coat, knocked the ashes out of his pipe on the corner of a draftingtable, and shouted into a dark inner office, ‘Goin out to eat, Mr Specker.’
‘All right go ahead,’ replied a goaty quavering from the inner office.
‘How’s the old man?’ asked Baldwin as they went out the door.
‘Ole Specker? Bout on his last legs… but he’s been thataway for years poa ole soul. Honest George I’d feel mighty mean if anythin happened to poa ole Specker… He’s the only honest man in the city of New York, an he’s got a head on his shoulders too.’
‘He’s never made anything much by it,’ said Baldwin.
‘He may yet… He may yet… Man you ought to see his plans for allsteel buildins. He’s got an idea the skyscraper of the future’ll be built of steel and glass. We’ve been
McNiel had stumped over to the desk and was leaning over the papers. Baldwin felt that Nellie was trying to make a sign to him. He kept his eyes down. After they had left he noticed her purse, a little leather purse with pansies burned on the back, on the corner of the desk. There was a tap on the glass door. He opened.
‘Why wouldn’t you look at me?’ she said breathlessly low.
‘How could I with him here.’ He held the purse out to her.
She put her arms round his neck and kissed him hard on the mouth. ‘What are we goin to do? Shall I come in this afternoon? Gus’ll be liquorin up to get himself sick again now he’s out of the hospital.’
‘No I cant Nellie… Business… business… I’m busy every minute.’
‘Oh yes you are… All right have it your own way.’ She slammed the door.
Baldwin sat at his desk biting his knuckles without seeing the pile of papers he was staring at. ‘I’ve got to cut it out,’ he said aloud and got to his feet. He paced back and forth across the narrow office looking at the shelves of lawbooks and the Gibson girl calendar over the telephone and the dusty square of sunlight by the window. He looked at his watch. Lunchtime. He drew the palm of a hand over his forehead and went to the telephone.
‘Rector 1237… Mr Sandbourne there?… Say Phil suppose I come by for you for lunch? Do you want to go out right now?… Sure… Say Phil I clinched it, I got the milkman his damages. I’m pleased as the dickens. I’ll set you up to a regular lunch on the strength of it… So long…’
He came away from the telephone smiling, took his hat off its hook, fitted it carefully on his head in front of the little mirror over the hatrack, and hurried down the stairs.
On the last flight he met Mr Emery of Emery & Emery who had their offices on the first floor.
‘Well Mr Baldwin how’s things?’ Mr Emery of Emery & Emery was a flatfaced man with gray hair and eyebrows and a protruding wedgeshaped jaw. ‘Pretty well sir, pretty well.’
‘They tell me you are doing mighty well… Something about the New York Central Railroad.’
‘Oh Simsbury and I settled it out of court.’
‘Humph,’ said Mr Emery of Emery & Emery.
As they were about to part in the street Mr Emery said suddenly ‘Would you care to dine with me and my wife some time?’
‘Why… er… I’d be delighted.’
‘I like to see something of the younger fellows in the profession you understand… Well I’ll drop you a line… Some evening next week. It would give us a chance to have a chat.’
Baldwin shook a blueveined hand in a shinystarched cuff and went off down Maiden Lane hustling with a springy step through the noon crowd. On Pearl Street he climbed a steep flight of black stairs that smelt of roasting coffee and knocked on a groundglass door.
‘Come in,’ shouted a bass voice. A swarthy man lanky in his shirtsleeves strode forward to meet him. ‘Hello George, thought you were never comin’. I’m hongry as hell.’
‘Phil I’m going to set you up to the best lunch you ever ate in your life.’
‘Well I’m juss waitin’ to be set.’
Phil Sandbourne put on his coat, knocked the ashes out of his pipe on the corner of a draftingtable, and shouted into a dark inner office, ‘Goin out to eat, Mr Specker.’
‘All right go ahead,’ replied a goaty quavering from the inner office.
‘How’s the old man?’ asked Baldwin as they went out the door.
‘Ole Specker? Bout on his last legs… but he’s been thataway for years poa ole soul. Honest George I’d feel mighty mean if anythin happened to poa ole Specker… He’s the only honest man in the city of New York, an he’s got a head on his shoulders too.’
‘He’s never made anything much by it,’ said Baldwin.
‘He may yet… He may yet… Man you ought to see his plans for allsteel buildins. He’s got an idea the skyscraper of the future’ll be built of steel and glass. We’ve been
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