"Clean out the whole thing; pay my debts, and leave the club."
"Oh, you mustn't do that."
"I'm going into a bank, and of course I shan't have any time to play."
Wilson regarded him with an amused and curious smile, playing with his fork meanwhile. Wilson was not by birth of Jack's world, having come into social position in Boston by his marriage with Elsie Dimmont, the richest young woman of the town. He and Jack had never been especially intimate, but Jack had always maintained that despite traces of coarseness in manner Wilson was sound at heart and essentially a good fellow. Perhaps the fact that in times past Neligage had not used his opportunities to patronize Wilson had something to do with the absence of anything patronizing in the Doctor's manner now.
"Well," Wilson said at length, "don't do anything rash. Your dues for the whole year are paid,—or will be when you square up, and you might as well get the worth of them. We need you on the team, so you mustn't go back on us if you can help it."
Matters being satisfactorily arranged both in relation to the loan and to the sale of the pony, Jack left Wilson, and departed in search of Count Shimbowski. Him he ultimately found at another club, and at once asked to speak with him alone on business.
"Count," he began when they were in one of the card-rooms, "I want to add a word to what I said to you yesterday."
"Each one word of Mr. Neleegaze eet ees treasured," the Count responded with a polite flourish of his cigarette.
"Since you wouldn't give me that letter," pursued Jack, acknowledging the compliment with a grin and a bow, "perhaps you'll be willing to exchange it."
"Exchange eet?" repeated the Hungarian. "For what weell eet be exchange'?"