His voice was rising to an hysteria cal pitch. "You know what I ought do to you, Grant? I ought kick you from one end of this office to the other!"
Grant said nothing. He kept rolling a gold pencil back and forth over the desk blotter. The little man began to shake again.
"Please," Grant asked softly "Please sit down.
The little man began to sob. He covered his face with dirty hands and his shoulders convulsed. Grant wet his lips and agony came to his face.
"You're poor" said Grant He flipped open a check book. "Will you let me help, at least?"
The little man clenched his tsts.
"Still at it, eh?" he cried. "Still trying to buy your way out of trouble. Money fixes everything, hah? Well, it won't fix my kid's legs. Not no So put that book away. You may need it some day; some day when you meet up with a guy with more nerve than me. Thats when you'll need it bad—and I hope to God it don't do you no good!"
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.