"Well, well, Craven, you're a genius," said Job, recovering himself. "You wouldn't—ha! ha!—like to have me advance you a few thousand on the mines, would you now, or take a mortgage on the house?"
"Yes, I would."
"I'll give you a check on the bank of Patagonia, shall I?"
"I see you will have your joke, Mr. Green. But I do want some money, and I'll tell you why. You see I am to be married in two months, and I must have a new suit of clothes, and go on a wedding tour. That'll cost me two or three hundred dollars."
"Ask Mrs. Craven for the money."
"I would, if she were Mrs. Craven, but it won't do to undeceive her too soon."
"You don't expect me to furnish the money, Craven, do you?"
"Yes, I do."
"What security have you to offer?"
"The security of my marriage."