to pay back the rest—little by little—somehow."
"The way to pay it back," said Marche, "is to do the work you are fitted for."
Herold looked up. "How can I?"
"Why not?"
"I could not go back to New York. I have no money to go with, even if I could find a place for myself again."
"Your place is open to you."
Herold stared at him.
Marche repeated the assertion profanely. "Damnation," he said, "if you'd talked this way to me five years ago, I'd never have stood in your way. All I heard of the matter was what Vyse told me. I'm not associated with him any more; I'll stand for his minding
his own affairs. The thing for you to do, Courtney, is to get into the game again and clean up what you owe Vyse. Here's seven thousand; you can borrow the rest from me. And then we'll go into things again and hustle. It was a good combination, Courtney—we'd have been rich men—except for the slip you made. Come on in with me again. Or would you rather continue to inhabit your own private hell?"
"Do you know what you are saying, Marche?" said the other hoarsely.