There were
seven theaters now, lying at points between New York and Denver, a
quickening nervous system of them with New York its ganglia. An eighth
had just been acquired, through which transaction she had endured with a
vicarious anxiety that amazed her. There had been arduous after office
hours of deed, mortgage, and bill of sale, and to growing demands had
invested herself with power of notary public, proclaiming the same in a
neat sign above her desk.
It was the day of the consummation of this last deal, a Bronx Family
Theater, in fact, that occurred between the brothers one of those
bloodless chasms no wider than a sword blade, but hilt-deep.
After a morning series of conferences with two representatives of
Philadelphia capital and the vice president of a Surety Guarantee
Company, Lilly in her new capacity thumping down on document after
document that slid beneath her punch, the transfer was completed, and,
bursting out into the corridor, rather hoyendish with elation, she drew
up shortly to avoid collision with Robert Visigoth, himself still warm
with the occasion.
"Well," he said, slapping the side pockets of his waistcoat, "we pulled
it off, didn't we?" The possibility of an evening train back to Chicago
and of a big deal creditably accomplished quickening his well-being.
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