"I seen money in 'Pan-America' long before Unger ever dreamed of producing
it. I sicked him onto 'The Official Chaperon' when every manager in town
had turned it down. I went down and seen 'em doing 'The White Elephant' in
a Yiddish theater and wired Unger out in Chicago to come back and grab it
for Broadway. Where's it got me? Nowhere. Because I whiled away the best
fifteen years of my life in an up-State burg, and then, when I came down
here too late in life, got in the rut of a salaried man. Well, where it
'ain't got me it's going to get my son. I'm missing a chance, to-day that,
mark my word, would make me a rich man but for want of a few--"

"Harry, you mean that?"

"My hunch never fails me."

She was leaning across the table, her hands clasping its edge, her small,
plump face even pinker.

He threw out his legs beneath the table and sat back, hands deep in
pockets, and a toothpick hanging limp from between lips that were sagging.

"Gad! if I had my life to live over again as a salaried man, I'd--I'd hang
myself first! The way to start a boy to a million dollars in this business
is to start him young in the producing-end of a strong firm."

"You--got faith in this Goldfinch & Goetz failure like you had in
'Pan-America' and 'The Chaperon,' Harry?"

"I said it five years ago and it come to pass. I say it now. For want of a
few dirty dollars I'm a poor man till I die."