I'll talk about this matter this morning or I won't talk about it at all." Sam stopped nonplussed.

Westlake was an important factor in the prospective Marsh Pulp Company.
"Tell you what you do," said he, after some quick thought.

"Why can't you get in the trap and drive over to Hollis Creek with me?
We can talk on the way and you can visit with your friends over there until time for luncheon; then I'll bring you back and we can talk on the way home, too." Miss Hallie and Princeman and young Tilloughby came cantering down the drive and waved hands at the two men.
"All right," said Westlake decisively, looking after his daughter and answering her glance with a nod.

"Wait until I get my hat," and he wheeled abruptly away.
Sam fumed and fretted and jerked his watch back and forth from his pocket, while Westlake wasted fifteen precious minutes in waddling up to the house and hunting for his hat and returning with it, and two minutes more in bungling his awkward way into the buggy; then Sam started the grays at such a terrific pace that, until they came to the steep hill midway of the course, there was no chance for conversation.
While the horses pulled up this steep hill, however, Westlake had his opportunity.
"I suppose you know," he said, "that you're not going to be allowed over two thousand shares of common stock for your patents." "I'm beginning to give up the hope of having more," admitted Sam.
"However, I'm going to stick it out to the last ditch." "It won't be permitted, so you might as well give up that idea.

How much stock do you think of buying ?" "About five thousand dollars' worth of the preferred," said Sam.
"Which will give you fifty bonus shares of the common.