Mr.Johnson was, by repute, no stranger to him.

Not sorry to pass this importunate borrower on to other hands, he tapped at a door labeled "Vice-President," opened it, and said something in a low voice.

From this room a man emerged at once--Marsh, vice-president, solid of body, strong of brow.

Clenched between heavy lips was a half-burned cigar, on which he puffed angrily.
"Well, Johnson, what's this ?" he demanded.
"You got money to sell?
I want to buy some.

Let me come in and talk it up to you." "Let him in, Hudson," said Marsh.