Deep in his heart he swore that he would find means to bring her down to the dirt again.

The higher her flight, the farther her fall and the sweeter would be his revenge.
"What's the matter wit you, boss?
Gone back on your grub, eh ?" It was his clerk, Samuel Sprink, whose sharp little eyes had not failed to note the gloomy glances of his employer.
"Pretty gay girl, our Irma has come to be," continued the cheerful Samuel, who prided himself on his fine selection of colloquial English.

"She's a beaut now, ain't she?
A regular bird!" Rosenblatt started.

At his words, but more at the admiration in Samuel's eyes, a new idea came to him.

He knew his clerk well, knew his restless ambition, his insatiable greed, his intense selfishness, his indomitable will.