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The Rubber Band

Page 22

by Rex Stout


  I shook my head positively. "Nothing doing. You'll keep beefing about your bullet wound, and anyway I can't afford it. You'll probably be luckier than ever."

  He put a dignified stare on me. "A dime a game."

  "No."

  "A nickel."

  "No. Not even for matches."

  He stood silent, and after a minute of that heaved a deep sigh. "Your salary is raised ten dollars a week, beginning last Monday."

  I lifted the brows. "Fifteen."

  "Ten is enough."

  I shook my head. "Fifteen."

  He sighed again. "Confound you! All right. Fifteen."

  I arose and went to the desk to get the red darts.

  THE END

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  Rex Stout

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