And Harry evidently realized it.
"Ain't I the cuckoo ?" he boomed, as Fairchild stared at him.

"Ain't I?
I 'ad to 'ave a outfit, and-- "It might as well be now!" he paraphrased, to the tune of the age-whitened sextette from "Floradora." "And look at the sparkler! Look at it!" Fairchild could do very little else but look.

He knew the value, even in spite of flaws and bad coloring.

And he knew something else, that Harry had confessed to having little more than five hundred dollars.
"But--but how did you do it ?" came gaspingly.

"I thought--" "Installments!" the Cornishman burst out.