all right!" he thought, and then, "Why don't she take a look at old Cufflets there, and get him in right?"
Again and again he hardened his gaze upon her. Her eyes always met his, not with any recognition of him as a human being, but with some curious interest that seemed remote yet not impersonal. He indignantly tried to out-stare her, but the thing was simply not to be done. Even looking down at her feet steadily didn't dash her brazenness. She didn't seem to care where he looked. After a very few minutes of this he kept his eyes upon his note-book with dignified absorption. But he could feel her glance.
"to c'nserve investment rep'sented by this stock upon sound basis rather than th' spec'lative policy of larger an' fluc'chating div'dends yours ver' truly what time's 'at game called?"
Thus concluded Breede, with a sudden noisy putting away of papers in an open drawer at his side.
Bean looked up at him, in open-mouthed fear for his sanity.
"Hello, Pops!" said the flapper.
"'Lo, Sis! What time's 'at game called?"
"Three," said Bean, still alarmed.
Breede looked at his watch.
"Jus' got time to make it."
He arose from the desk. Bean arose. The flapper arose.
"Take y' up in car," said Breede, most amazingly.
