"Read,--if you won't talk!"
"I can talk all right," returned Randolph. "In fact, I have a bit of news
for you."
"What is it?"
"I'm going to move."
Foster peered out from under his shade.
"Move? What for? I thought you were all right where you are.
"All right enough; except that I want more room--and a house of my own."
"Have you found one?"
"I've about decided on an apartment. And I expect to move into it early
next month."
"Top floor, of course?"
"No; first floor, not six feet above the street level."
"Good. If they'll lend me a hand here, to get down and out, I'll come and
see you, now and then."
"Do so."
"That will give me a chance to wear this muffler, after all."
"So it will."
"Well, be a little more cordial. You expect to see your friends, don't
you?"
"Of course. That's what it's for. Have I got to exert myself," he added,
"to be cordial with _you_?"
"What's the neighborhood?"
"Oh, this one, substantially. The next street from where I am now."
"Housekeeper?"
"I think I'll have a Jap alone, at first."
"Dinners?"
"A few small try-outs, perhaps.
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