"I don't really know enough about antique pictures to——"
"What's the odds! Neither do I! My dear sir, we must lie like gentlemen for the honour of the Dankmere gallery! What? Along comes a chap walking slowly and painfully for the weight of the money in his pockets—'Ho!' says he—'a genuine Van Dyck!' 'Certainly,' you say, very coldly. And, 'How much?' says he, shivering for fear he mayn't get it. 'Three hundred thousand dollars,' you say, trying not to yawn in his face——"
Quarren could no longer control his laughter: Dankmere blinked at him amiably.
"We'll hang them anyhow, Dankmere," he said. "As long as there is so little business in the office I don't mind looking after your pictures for you——"
"Yours, too," urged the Earl.
"No; I can't accept anything——"
"Then it's all off!" exclaimed Dankmere, turning a bright red. "I'm blessed if I'll accept charity!—even if I am hunting heiresses. I'll marry money if I can, but I'm damned if I hold out a tin cup for coppers!"
"If you feel that way," began Quarren, very much embarrassed, "I'll do whatever would make you feel comfortable——"
"Half interest or it's all off! A Dankmere means what he says—now and then."
"One-third interest, then——"