"Yes, I'm promoting, you know—mines!" DeVoe flung off his fur coat and settled into an easy-chair.
"Getting along all right?"
"No. My friends either know too little about mines or too much about me. I've a good proposition, though, and if I could ever get started, I'd clean up a million."
"It's not so hard to make a million dollars."
"How the deuce do you know? You've never had to try. By the way, why are you living here at the club? Where is Mrs. Murray?"
"She is at the farm with the children. We have—separated."
"No! Jove! I'm sorry. What does it mean—the road to Reno?"
"I hardly think she will divorce me, on account of the publicity; although she ought to."
"Woman scrape, I suppose."
"No, nothing like that. I've spent all her money."