"
G. Selden was a business-like young man. He gave Mr. Vanderpoel one
serious look, and the catalogue was drawn forth.
"It wouldn't be business, sir, for me to be caught out without it," he
said. "I shouldn't leave it behind if I went to a funeral. A man's got
to run no risks."
"I should like to look at it."
The thing had happened. It was not a dream. Reuben S. Vanderpoel,
clothed and in his right mind, had, without pressure being exerted upon
him, expressed his desire to look at the catalogue--to examine it--to
have it explained to him at length.
He listened attentively, while G. Selden did his best. He asked a
question now and then, or made a comment. His manner was that of a
thoroughly composed man of business, but he was remembering what Betty
had told him of the "ten per," and a number of other things. He saw
the flush come and go under the still boyish skin, he observed that G.
Selden's hand was not wholly steady, though he was making an effort not
to seem excited. But he was excited. This actually meant--this thing so
unimportant to multi-millionaires--that he was having his "chance," and
his young fortunes were, perhaps, in the balance.
"Yes," said Reuben S., when he had finished, "it seems a good,
up-to-date machine.
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