sleeve."

He protested with a ponderous swing of his big head. I stood
before him helplessly, being looked at by those heavy eyes with a
veiled expression as of a man after some soul-shaking crisis.
Then, suddenly:

"It's impossible to talk quietly here," he whispered. "I am very
busy. But if you could go and wait for me in my house. It's less
than ten minutes' walk. Oh, yes, you don't know the way."

He called for his coat and offered to take me there himself. He
would have to return to the store at once for an hour or so to
finish his business, and then he would be at liberty to talk over
with me that matter of quarter-bags. This programme was breathed
out at me through slightly parted, still lips; his heavy,
motionless glance rested upon me, placid as ever, the glance of a
tired man--but I felt that it was searching, too. I could not
imagine what he was looking for in me and kept silent, wondering.

"I am asking you to wait for me in my house till I am at liberty to
talk this matter over. You will?"

"Why, of course!" I cried.

"But I cannot promise--"

"I dare say not," I said. "I don't expect a promise."

"I mean I can't even promise to try the move I've in my mind. One