“Do you want to get back that two thousand dollars you lost?”
“Yes.”
“Well, get up, and marry that woman down stairs.”
Folinsbee laughed half hysterically, half sardonically.
“She won't give it to me.”
“No; but I will.”
“YOU?”
“Yes.”
Folinsbee, with an attempt at a reckless laugh, rose, trembling and with difficulty, to his swollen feet. Hamlin eyed him narrowly, and then bade him lie down again. “To-morrow will do,” he said, “and then—”
“If I don't—”