"
Isaac was beginning to feel that stupidity was now his refuge.
"I'm not objecting to your reckless extravagance, as you seem to
think. I'm trying to suggest that twelve hundred is a ridiculously
small offer for a collection which can't be worth less than four
thousand."
"It may be worth that to a collector. It isn't worth it to me."
"It's worth it to any dealer who knows his business."
"Pretty business, if you have to buy at fancy prices and sell at a
risk."
"I allowed for the risk in the valuation--I always do. There's one
point where you _are_ extravagant, if you like. What's the use of
paying me for advice if you won't take it?"
Isaac's stupidity increased.
"'Ow do you mean--paying you for your advice?"
"Paying a valuer, then, if you won't accept his valuation."
So unwilling was he to admit the sharpness of his father's practice
that he tried to persuade himself that they had merely disagreed on a
point of connoisseurship. "My advice, if you remember, was to withdraw
decently, or pay a decent price."
"I've paid my price, and I'm certainly not going to withdraw."
"Well, but I'm afraid, if you won't withdraw, I must. You haven't paid
_my_ price, and I can't be responsible."
Isaac caressed his beard gently, and looked at Keith with a gaze so
clear that it might have passed for pure. He was saying to himself,
as he had said once before, "There's a woman in it."
"Don't you see," Keith broke out, "the atrocious position that I'm in?
I promised Miss Harden that we'd do our best for her, and now we're
taking advantage of the situation to drive an iniquitous bargain with
her.
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