As he set the flask down he made the reflection that if he would drink water instead of Chianti he could send his father three dollars a week, on his back debts, and he resolved to do it.
"The main question, as March looks at it, is the question of punishing Lindau for his private opinions; he says that if he consents to my bouncing the old fellow it's the same as if he bounced him." "It might have that complexion in some lights," said Beaton.

He drank off his Chianti, and thought he would have it twice a week, or make Maroni keep the half-bottles over for him, and send his father two dollars.

"And what are you going to do now ?" "That's what I don't know," said Fulkerson, ruefully.

After a moment he said, desperately, "Beaton, you've got a pretty good head; why don't you suggest something ?" "Why don't you let March go ?" Beaton suggested.
"Ah, I couldn't," said Fulkerson.

"I got him to break up in Boston and come here; I like him; nobody else could get the hang of the thing like he has; he's--a friend." Fulkerson said this with the nearest approach he could make to seriousness, which was a kind of unhappiness.
Beaton shrugged.