"Fromkin, you go on up with the
boy; I'll talk to the lady a minute."
A little displeased frown appeared on Emma McChesney's face.
"You'll have to excuse me, Mr. Meyers, I--"
"Heigh-ho for that haughty stuff, Mrs. McChesney," grinned Ed Meyers.
"Don't turn up your nose at that little Kike friend of mine till
you've heard what I have to say. Now just let me talk a minute.
Fromkin's heard all about you. He's got a proposition to make. And it
isn't one to sniff at."
He lowered his voice mysteriously in the silence of the dim hotel
corridor.
"Fromkin started in a little one-room hole-in-the-wall over on the
East Side. Lived on a herring and a hunk of rye bread. Wife used to
help him sew. That was seven years ago. In three years, or less,
she'll have the regulation uniform--full length seal coat, bunch of
paradise, five-drop diamond La Valliere set in platinum, electric
brougham. Abe has got a business head, take it from me. But he's wise
enough to know that business isn't the rough-and-tumble game it used
to be.
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