The fender shoved the ole man around some, but I reckon he only got
shook up. They both went on in the Sheridan Building without any help.
Excuse me, lady."
Sheridan and Bibbs, in fact, were at that moment in the elevator,
ascending. "Whisk-broom up in the office," Sheridan was saying.
"You got to look out on those corners nowadays, I tell you. I don't
know I got any call to blow, though--because I tried to cross after
you did. That's how I happened to run into you. Well, you want to
remember to look out after this. We were talkin' about Murtrie's
askin' sixty-eight thousand flat for that ninety-nine-year lease.
It's his lookout if he'd rather take it that way, and I don't know
but--"
"No," said Bibbs, emphatically, as the elevator stopped; "he won't
get it. Not from us, he won't, and I'll show you why. I can
convince you in five minutes." He followed his father into the
office anteroom--and convinced him. Then, having been diligently
brushed by a youth of color, Bibbs went into his own room and closed
the door.
He was more shaken than he had allowed his father to perceive, and
his side was sore where Sheridan had struck him. He desired to be
alone; he wanted to rub himself and, for once, to do some useless
thinking again.
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