He turned in an instant from an
outraged gentleman to an anxious chafferer recommending his goods.
"Don't be in a hurry, Garvey," he said, his face crimson and his
speech thick. "I accept your p-p-proposition, though it's dirt cheap
at two hundred. A t-trade's all right when both p-purchaser and
b-buyer are s-satisfied. Shall I w-wrap it up for you, Mr. Garvey?"
Garvey rose, and shook out his broadcloth. "Missis Garvey will be
pleased. You air out of it, and it stands Coltrane and Garvey. Just
a scrap ov writin', Mr. Goree, you bein' a lawyer, to show we traded."
Goree seized a sheet of paper and a pen. The money was clutched in
his moist hand. Everything else suddenly seemed to grow trivial and
light.
"Bill of sale, by all means. 'Right, title, and interest in and to'
. . . 'forever warrant and--' No, Garvey, we'll have to leave out that
'defend,'" said Goree with a loud laugh. "You'll have to defend this
title yourself."
The mountaineer received the amazing screed that the lawyer handed
him, folded it with immense labour, and laced it carefully in his
pocket.
Goree was standing near the window. "Step here," he said, raising his
finger, "and I'll show you your recently purchased enemy. There he
goes, down the other side of the street.
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