“I don’t suppose there’s any use of asking for some of my money back?”
Norton shook his head. “Not a ghost. You took your gamble, senator. You can’t even prove you paid me. And, beside, you still have plenty left to last you the few years you have to live.”
The senator took a step toward the door, then turned back.
“Look, Norton, I can’t die! Not now. Just one more continua-tion and I’d be—”
The look on Norton’s face stopped him in his tracks. The look he’d glimpsed on other faces at other times, but only glimpsed. Now he stared at it—at the naked hatred of a man whose life is short for the man whose life is long.
“Sure, you can die,” said Norton. “You’re going to. You can’t live forever. Who do you think you are!”
The senator reached out a hand and clutched the desk.
“But you don’t understand.”
“You’ve already lived ten times as long as I have lived,” said Norton, coldly, measuring each word, “and I hate your guts for it. Get out of here, you sniveling old fool, before I throw you out.”