“My dear sir,” said Wheeler effusively, “I wouldn’t do it for many persons, but I have taken a fancy to you.”
“You don’t mean so?” said Pettigrew, appearing pleased?
“Yes, I do, on my honor.”
“But I don’t see why you should. You are a polished city gentleman and I am an ignorant miner from Montana.”
Louis Wheeler looked complacent when he was referred to as a polished city gentleman.
“You do yourself injustice, my dear Pettigrew,” he said in a patronizing manner. “You do indeed. You may not be polished, but you are certainly smart, as you have shown by accumulating a fortune.”
“But I am not as rich as you.”
“Perhaps not, but if I should lose my money, I could not make another fortune, while I am sure you could. Don’t you think it would be a good plan for us to start a business together in New York?”
“Would you really be willing to go into business with me?”
Jefferson Pettigrew asked this question with so much apparent sincerity that Wheeler was completely deceived.