"Most certainly I do. Why not?"
"Because I'm pretty well fixed here. The business is making good—and so am I. It won't be long before I can pay you back, with interest, as we agreed, without having to marry that poor girl and ... and draw on her money to make good to you."
"You want to go back on our agreement?" demanded Kellogg, with a show of disappointment and disgust.
"Yes and no. I won't break faith with you, if you insist, but I'd give a lot if you'd let me off—let me pay back what you advanced and cry quits.... When you outlined this scheme I was down and three times out—willing to take a chance at anything, no matter how contemptible. Now... well, it's different."
"Good heavens! You don't mean you'd be willing to live here?"
Nat smiled, but not mirthfully. "I don't know," he hesitated; "I'm afraid I'm beginning to like it."
"You, Nat?" Kellogg's amazement was unfeigned. "You, ready to spend your life here slaving away in this measly store?"
Duncan grunted indignantly. "Hold on, now. Don't you call this a measly store. There isn't a more complete drug-store in the State!"
"Do you hear that?" Kellogg appealed vehemently to the universe at large. "Is it possible that this is Nat Duncan, the fellow who hated work so hard he couldn't earn a living?... Gad, I believe I've arrived just in time!"
"In time for what?"