"If I had a million dollars I wouldn't care whether I had a friend or not," Murk said.
"You can be just as lonesome with a million dollars as you can without a cent," Prale told him. "I was sitting down here because I was lonesome, and because there are some enemies working at me, and I don't know who they are or why they want to trouble me."
"Well, let's jump in the drink together," Murk said.
"Why not fight it out?" asked Sidney Prale.
"Mister, I've been fightin' for years, and it don't get me anything. It just tires me out—that's all. The next world can't be any worse than this."
"Are you a fighter, or a quitter?"
"Nobody ever called me a quitter."
"But you were trying to be a few minutes ago. You were going to quit like a yellow dog!" Prale told him. "You were going to throw up the sponge and give the devil a laugh."
"That's between me and the devil—nobody else would care."
"If you had a friend, an influential friend, and didn't have to keep up a continual fight to hold body and soul together, could you manage to face the world a little longer?"