"
Shaking his head, he retired once more to the window. George began to
breathe more freely, as one who has fronted danger and still lives. Mr.
Enwright addressed the window:
"It's absolute folly to start on a thing like that before the conditions
are out. Absolute folly. Have you done all that to-night?"
"Yes."
"Well, you've shifted the stuff.... But you haven't the slightest notion
what accommodation they want. You simply don't know."
"I know what accommodation they _ought_ to want with four hundred
thousand inhabitants," George retorted pugnaciously.
"Is it four hundred thousand?" Mr. Enwright asked, with bland innocence.
He generally left statistics to his partner.
"Four hundred and twenty-five."
"You've looked it up?"
"I have."
Mr. Enwright was now at the desk yet again.
"There's an idea to it," he said shortly, holding up the principal sheet
and blinking.
"_I shall go in for it_!" The thought swept through George's brain like
a fierce flare, lighting it up vividly to its darkest corners, and
incidentally producing upon his skin phenomena similar to those produced
by uncanny sounds on the staircase. He had caught admiration and
benevolence in Mr. Enwright's voice. He was intensely happy,
encouraged, and proud. He began to talk eagerly; he babbled, entrusting
himself to Mr.
Pages:
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285