Some grass grew feebly there.

The red wall and old-fashioned brick fence which divided it from the next lot reminded him somehow of his old home in New Market Street, to which his Uncle Seneca used to come as a Cuban trader followed by his black Portuguese servitor.

He could see him now as he sat here looking at the yard.
"Well," asked Stener, ambitiously, taking the bait, "why don't we get hold of that--you and me?
I suppose I could fix it so far as the money is concerned.

How much would it take ?" Cowperwood smiled inwardly again.
"I don't know exactly," he said, after a time.

"I want to look into it more carefully.