“I want you to give me a million so that in return I may give you a daughter-in-law.”
“You mean you will not give me a daughter-in-law if I give you a million, don't you?”
“I am in the habit of meaning what I say. The sooner you learn that, the quicker we'll close the deal. I mean that for a million dollars I'll give you a daughter-in-law.”
Mr. Merriwether shook his head. It was plainly to be seen on his face that every moment spent in this room was a sad waste of time.
“Isn't it worth a million to you?” asked the man, as if he knew it was.
Mr. Merriwether proceeded to look as though it were worth even less than a Santo Domingo mining concession. Then he said, with finality:
“No.”
The man rose.
“Then,” he spoke indifferently, “come back when it is. I'll ask you to excuse me. I, also, am a busy man. Good day, sir.”
Mr. Merriwether rose and bowed. He looked straight into the man's very shrewd eyes, smiled very slightly—and sat down again.