"I'll have that comb on the market so quickly that you can almost afford to wait for it.

Royalty, Johnny ?" "No," denied Johnny promptly.

"I'll sell it to you outright for ten thousand dollars, me to sign any sort of papers you need and you to pay the patent lawyer." "I'd be robbing you," protested Bruce.

"I should think you'd want to retain an interest in the manufacture, or at least a royalty.

There'd be a lot more money in it for you." "Wait just a minute," directed Loring, sitting down at his typewriting machine from which the neat operator had fled at the very beginning of the social invasion.
For the next two or three minutes the rapidfire click of the keys under Loring's practiced fingers drowned all other sound, and then he jerked off a paper.
"Now, Johnny, you sign this," he ordered.