“Did she know you had all that dough?”
“Yes, she knew I had all that dough. But she said that since I was going to the devil, I had better go.” He drew a long breath. “Well, I’m going—perhaps quicker than she thinks.”
“Will you do yourself any good by that?”
“No, but I’ll do her harm.”
“How?”
“I’ll show her what she’s made of me.”
“She can’t make anything of you in half an hour or in half a year—not so long as you’ve got your wad back of you. If you was to be kicked out with your pay-envelope stole, and your mother’s rings pulled off your fingers, and her wrist-watch from your wrist, and even your carfare––”
“Is that what’s happened to you?”
“Sure! Half an hour ago, too. Judson Flack! But why should I worry? Something’ll happen before night.”
He became emphatic. “Yes, and I’ll tell you what it will be. You put your finger on it just now when you said she couldn’t make anything out of men in half an hour. Well, it’s got to be something that would take just that time—an hour at the most—and fatal. Now do you see?”