B. Gurin shrugged.

"For that matter, Mr. Perlmutter," he said, "I don't take it so
particular about my food neither."

"Say, lookyhere, Gurin," Morris exclaimed. "What is the trouble with you
anyhow? First you are telling me you don't care about money, next you
are kicking that the good-looking ones couldn't cook, y'understand, and
then you say you ain't so particular about cooking anyway. What for a
kind of girl do you want, Gurin?"

Gurin continued to examine his finger-nails and made no reply.

"Because, Gurin," Morris concluded, "if you are looking for a homely
girl which she ain't got no money and couldn't cook, understand me, I
wouldn't fool away my time with you at all. Such girls you don't need me
to find for you."

B. Gurin sighed profoundly.

"You shouldn't get mad, Mr. Perlmutter," he said, "if I tell you
something?"

"Why should I get mad, Gurin?" Morris asked. "I am coming all the way up
here, which I am leaving wife and boy at home to do so--and maybe you
don't think she put up a holler, Gurin! So if you wouldn't even consent
to do me the favour and look at Mrs. Gladstein, Gurin, and I don't get
mad, understand me, why should I get mad if you would tell me
something?"