Remember--it is the voice of Cohen.

The chairs are worth more--some day they'll fetch twice that; but, really, I must throw a sop to that collector-Cerberus within me.
He's entitled to something.

He had the wit to fetch me here." "The chairs are yours," I said, wondering if I had not mistaken his offer, but determining not to betray this.
"A little memorandum of sale, if you please--and I'll give you my check.
That larger sideboard would also have stood in the way, but those glass handles aren't the originals." The formality was soon despatched, and my curious friend became truly human.
"Now, Blake, this is from the grateful wretch whose life you have not only saved but enriched.

Well, there's an excellent lot of stuff there.
I've got the pick, from a collector's standpoint--though not from a money valuation.

I can't tell what it will bring, but enough to put our youngish old friend easy for some time to come.