Good morning," and with a bow to the managing director and a nod to Gaston, he lunged out of the office, not condescending to take the slightest notice of Andre.

Verminet invited Andre and Gaston into his sanctum, and, taking a seat, motioned to them to do the same.
Verminet was a decided contrast to his office, which was shabby and dirty, for his dress did his tailor credit, and he appeared to be clean.
He was neither old nor young, and carried his years well.

He was fresh and plump, wore his whiskers and hair cut in the English fashion, while his sunken eyes had no more expression in them than those of a fish.
Gandelu was in a hurry to begin.
"Let us get to business," said he.

"Last week you lent me some money." "Just so.

Do you want any more ?" "No; I want to return my bills." A cloud passed over Verminet's face.
"The first does not fall due until the 15th," remarked he.
"No matter; I have the money with me, and I will pay it on you handing over the bills to me." "I can't do it." "And why so, pray ?" "The bills have passed out of my hands." Gaston could scarcely credit his ears, nor believe in the truth of this last statement, and was certainly upset, now knowing what to do.
"But," stammered he, "you promised, when I signed those bills, that they should never go out of your hands." "I don't say I did not; but one can't always keep to one's promise.