"I—Why, I can't take that money, Millie, from you!"
"From your wife? When she stinted and scrimped and saved on shoe-leather for the happiness of it?"
"Why, this is no sure thing I got on the brain."
"Nothing is."
"I got nothing but my own judgment to rely on."
"You been right three times, Harry."
"There's not as big a gamble in the world as the show business. I can't take your savings, mother."
"Harry, if—if you don't, I'll tear it up. It's what I've worked for. I'm too tired, Harry, to stand much. If you don't take it, I—I'm too tired, Harry, to stand it."
"But, mother—"
"I couldn't stand it, I tell you," she said, the tears now bursting and flowing down over her cheeks.