“Two thousand!” mused Hartley, idly toying with the pen. “That’s a good deal of money, Connorton.”
“It is,” agreed Connorton, hopeful but anxious.
“It is so much,” said Hartley, capping the pen and putting it away, “that I don’t believe I’ll sign.”
“What!” cried Connorton, in dismay.
“Let’s enjoy the moonlight!” suggested Hartley.
“But—but—”
“If you exasperate me, Connorton,” threatened Hartley, “I shall do something desperate!”
Connorton, discouraged, decided to let him alone until morning, when he would make one last attempt to induce him to listen to reason. He turned in with that idea in mind, dreamed of it, and had it still in mind when he was roughly awakened at daylight.
“Get up!” ordered Hartley. “We’ll be starting in half an hour.”
“Starting!” exclaimed Connorton. “Where to?”