Fulkerson got down off the table and made some turns about the room.

It was growing late; the October sun had left the top of the tall windows; it was still clear day, but it would soon be twilight; they had been talking a long time.

Fulkerson came and stood with his little feet wide apart, and bent his little lean, square face on March.

"See here! How much do you get out of this thing here, anyway ?" "The insurance business ?" March hesitated a moment and then said, with a certain effort of reserve, "At present about three thousand." He looked up at Fulkerson with a glance, as if he had a mind to enlarge upon the fact, and then dropped his eyes without saying more.
Whether Fulkerson had not thought it so much or not, he said: "Well, I'll give you thirty-five hundred.

Come! And your chances in the success." "We won't count the chances in the success.