Bra. The returns therefrom have contributed somewhat to your comfort, I suppose.
Poe. Do you?
Bra. Ah, I am mistaken? Then I have less hesitation to tell you that the articles recently submitted are unavailable.
Poe. You tell me! What have you to do with it? Who are you?
Bra. I am the present editor of The Comet.
Poe. You!
Bra. I! You see I am in a position to speak with authority,—and it is only just to tell you that your articles will meet with no further recognition in that quarter.
Poe. Brackett ... I have been very ill. I wrote those things on what I believed to be my death bed. My wife....
Bra. I should say then that you are in great need of money.
Poe. God help me, I am! You know I am not one to beg!