Do you want to go deeper? You'll find a hell-broth--thieves,
gamblers, prostitutes, pawnbrokers, saloon-keepers, aldermen, heelers,
justices, bailiffs, policemen--and all concocted for us within a short
quarter of a century." He drew his hands across each other. "I've never
felt so cheap and filthy in my life."
Truesdale made no further inquiries about the Van Horns. His fastidious
nature shrank back from all these malodorous actualities. He added his
own footprints to those which already defaced the map lying on the floor,
and asked about that.
"You're interesting yourself in buying land, I imagine."
"In selling," replied Roger, curtly.
David Marshall leaned laboriously over the arm of his chair with the
intention, perhaps, of crowding the crumpled map into his waste-basket.
Instead, he gave it several neat and careful folds and thrust it
abstractedly into one of his pigeon-holes. It found place alongside of a
bill for doctor's services handed in that morning. A porter who had
fallen down three floors of the elevator shaft had been attended by one
of his own friends. The bill was exorbitant--everybody concerned knew
that. But it was rather less than a probable award for damages--everybody
knew that, too. The excess was to be shared, of course, between doctor
and patient.
"Was there anything special?" his father asked presently, with a wan and
dejected glance towards his younger son. "If not, I think I'll put on my
things and go home.
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