"You're the only man who believes that, Harry."
"Buck up. I'll stumble across some better opening for you before long, and—"
"Stop right there. I'm through—"
"Don't talk that way, Nat. I'll get you in right somewhere."
"You're the best-hearted man alive, Harry—but I'll see you damned first."
"Wait." Kellogg demanded his attention. "Here's this man Burnham—you don't know him, but he's as keen as they make 'em. He's on the track of some wonderful scheme for making illuminating gas from crude oil; if it goes through—if the invention's really practicable—it's bound to work a revolution. He's down in Washington now—left this afternoon to look up the patents. Now he needs me, to get the ear of the Standard Oil people, and I'll get you in there."
"What right've you got to do that?" demanded Duncan. "What the dickens do I know about illuminating gas or crude oil? Burnham'd never thank you for the likes o' me."
"But—thunder!—you can learn. All you need—."
"Now see here, Harry!" Duncan gave him pause with a manner not to be denied. "Once and for all time understand I'm through having you recommend an incompetent—just because we're friends."
"But, Harry—"