"Where's your matches?"
"In Mother Watson's room."
"You might go and get 'em when she's out."
"No," said Mark, shaking his head. "I won't do that."
"Why not? You aint afraid to go round there,—be you?"
"It isn't that,—but the matches are hers, not mine."
"What's the odds?"
"I won't take anything of hers."
"Well, you can buy some of your own, then. You've got money enough."