"Take what youse want." He pointed with his cigar to the change Mulligan had just laid upon the table.
With hesitation she picked up a quarter. "This much?" she asked, smiling doubtfully.
"No wonder youse're poor!" He swept all the change into his palm. "Here!" and he thrust it into her astonished hands.
After she had stammered out her thanks and departed, Foley began to fill the glasses from a bottle Mulligan had opened. Jake, moistening his lips, put out his hand in mock refusal.
"Only a drop for me, Buck."
Foley filled Jake's glass to the brim. "Well, there's several. Pick your choice."
He filled the other glasses, then lifted his own with a "Here's how!" They all raised the fragile goblets clumsily and emptied them at a gulp. "Now put about twenty dollars' worth o' grin on your faces," Foley requested.
"But what about Keating?" asked Connelly anxiously, harking back to the first subject. "He's startin' a mighty hot fight. An' really, Buck, he's a strong man."
"Yes, I reckon he is." Foley put one hand to his mouth and yawned mightily behind it. "But he's sorter like a big friend o' mine who went out to cut ice in July. His judgment ain't good."
"Of course, he ain't got no chance."