Holt, unlike the waiter, showed his disapproval. "I know you scarcely ever did out there." He jerked his round face in what he supposed was a westerly direction. "But that's over now. You don't have to be careful now. What's the good of being rich if you have to be careful?" "Still, I am careful," said Stainton, quietly. "But on this occasion? Surely not on this occasion, Jim!" The miner laughed freely now. "You always were a wonder at discovering occasions, George," he said. "Your occasions were as frequent as saints' days and other holidays in a Mexican peon's calendar." "And still are, thank the Lord. But to-night----Even you've got to admit to-night, Jim. It isn't every day in the year that a man that's saved my life turns up in New York with a newly discovered, warranted pure, gold mine in his pocket." This was so clearly true that Stainton capitulated, or at least compromised by going to the bar and drinking a thimbleful of white-mint while Holt, chattering like a cheerful magpie--if a magpie can be cheerful--consumed two long glasses of Irish whiskey with a little aerated water added. Holt made endless plans for his friend. He would "put up" Stainton's name at his club. He would introduce him to this personage and to that. He would-- "Oh, by Jove, yes, and the women!" he interrupted himself. "You've got to go gently there, Jim." A bright tint showed on Stainton's cheeks. "I never----" he began. "Oh, not _them_!" said Holt, dismissing the entire half-world with a light gesture. "I know you didn't--the more fool you. But what I mean is the--you know: the all-righters. They'll be setting their caps at you worse than any of the other sort. You've got to remember that you're a catch." This was all very pleasant, and Stainton was too honest with himself not to admit so much. "Marriage," he admitted, "isn't beyond my calculations." "Exactly. Now, you leave that little matter to me, Jim. I know----" "I think that, if you don't much mind, I shall leave it to myself. There is no hurry, you see." "Um; yes. I do see. But if there's no hurry, just you wait--just you wait, old man, till you have seen what I can show you. New York is the biggest bond-market and marriage-market in the world." He looked at his watch. "Hello," he said: "I'll be late. Now, look here: where'll you be after the opera? I've got to go there. I hate it, but I have to." "The opera?" repeated Stainton. "The Metropolitan?" "Yes, sure." "But I'm going there myself." "The devil you are. Where are you?" Stainton produced his ticket. Holt glanced at it and shook his head. "Too close to hear," he said. "But what's the difference? We've all heard the confounded thing so often----" "I have not," said Stainton.