"He'd better not."
"You frown at him thataway, and you'll scare him to death, Art. He's one timid fawn, that Slike person."
"He'll be——"
"Never mind what he'll be, Art. That's his business, and yours. I didn't come here to help Slike. I came here to get Bill and help yours truly. I want some money."
"I told you I haven't any."
"But you can get it."
"I told you folks want security."
"That will do to tell somebody else besides me. I've got my growth and cut most all my teeth a long time since. You'll have to raise some money—say about fifteen hundred."
"You might as well make it fifteen thousand."
"Maybe I will. Thousand sounds kind of good. Say about three of 'em. Three thousand dollars, Art, and I'll let you alone a while."