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Sinclair, May, 1863-1946

"The Divine Fire"

See?"
"No. I don't see. I don't see myself paying three thousand to a man
who's willing to take two hundred."
"See my point, I mean. If the three thousand isn't paid, I go. On the
other hand, if it is paid, I stay."
This was one of those inspirations on which he had counted, and it
presented itself to him as a "clincher." At the same instant he
realized that he was selling himself into slavery for three thousand
pounds. No, not for three thousand pounds, for his honour's sake and
Lucia Harden's.
Isaac looked graver, alarmed even; it struck him that Keith's peculiar
vein of extravagance was becoming dangerous.
"You can calculate the interest at four per cent., and knock a hundred
and twenty off my salary, if you like; but I'll stay. It's pretty
clear, isn't it? I think, on the whole, it might be as well for you to
close with the offer. It seems to me that if I'm worth anything at
all, I'm worth three thousand."
"I haven't priced your services yet." Isaac's gaze shifted. He was
beginning to feel something of that profound discomfort he had
experienced before in the presence of his son. "Now, when you spoke to
Miss 'Arden, had she any notion of the value of the library?"
"None whatever, till I told her."
"Do you mean to stand there and say that you were fool enough to tell
her?"
"Certainly; I thought it only fair to her."
"And did you think it was fair to me?"
"Why not? If you're not dealing with her what difference could it
make?"
He said to himself, "I've got him there!"
Isaac was indeed staggered by the blow, and lost his admirable
composure.


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