Richard Forrest, Bachelor — page 154: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A GOLDEN FUTURE PREDICTED, 145 what I am worth, and I should never dream of signing for one sou less than three hundred and fifty.’’ ‘‘Three hundred and fifty,’’ uttered the Italian. “Si, signor.”’ | ‘‘But, mademoiselle,’’ he began, deprecatingly, ‘‘we talked this all over, you and I, on Thursday evening last, with the final decision that you would sing for the two hundred; that I can swear to, and now, when it is all ar- ranged, you—what shall lI call it?—retract. Iam in de- Spair.’’ ‘“Then you must not be such a blockhead, Fabbricotti,’’ returned the girl, rudely. ‘‘You remember my saying that I wanted three hundred and fifty in the beginning of our conversation on Thursday, no doubt? It makes no particu- lar difference now, but do you?’’ ‘*Yes, and I told Monsieur Bouchon.”’’ ‘Well, he heard, did he not? He has ears, I believe?’’ mockingly. ‘Certainly, and I urged him for a full hour. But it did no good. Two hundred was all he would give.”’ ‘What assurance!’’ exclaimed Miss Delmar, vehemently. ‘“‘T bear you no ill-will, however. You’re only Bouchon’s agent, after all, and have done your duty. It doesn’t bother me, and it shouldn’t you. Come, here we are at the cafe; let’s have something to drink, I’m dying of thirst.’’ And she seated herself at one of the tables, slowly un- buttoning her right glove as she did so. Most of the tables around them were well filled, but theirs was a little apart from the rest, so that no one could overhear their conversation. Not far off two men, dressed in the height of fashion, were drinking absinthe and talking earnestly. Opposite GOmMmichbooks (€(0)