"I think it quite likely--if you know some one
out in that section."
"But I don't know anyone."
"You know me," said Stark, significantly.
"Do you think you could help me to a place,
Mr. Stark?"
"I think I could. A month from now write
to me Col. Philip Stark, at Denver, Colorado,
and I will see if I can find an opening for you."
"You are very kind, Mr.--I mean Col.
Stark," said the clerk, gratefully.
"Oh, never mind about the title," returned
Stark, smiling good-naturedly. "I only gave
it to you just now, because everybody in Denver
knows me as a colonel, and I am afraid a
letter otherwise addressed would not reach me.
By the way, I am sorry that I shall probably
have to leave you to-morrow."
"So soon?"
"Yes; it's this tiresome business. I should
not wonder if I might lose ten thousand dollars
through the folly of my agent. I shall
probably have to go out to right things."
"I couldn't afford to lose ten thousand dollars,"
said the young man, regarding the capitalist
before him with deference.
"No, I expect not. At your age I wasn't
worth ten thousand cents. Now--but that's
neither here nor there. Give me a light,
please, and I will go up to bed."
"He was about to say how much he is worth now,"
soliloquized the clerk. "I wish he had
not stopped short. If I can't be rich myself,
I like to talk with a rich man. There's hope
for me, surely. He says that at my age he was
not worth ten thousand cents. That is only
a hundred dollars, and I am worth that.
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