I don't care for the money.

And I'll get our counting-room to see this scoundrel"-- he picked up the paper that had had fun with him--"and fix him all right, so that he'll ask for a suspension of public opinion, and--You see, don't you ?" The thing did appeal to Burnamy.

If it could be done, it would enable him to make Stoller the reparation he longed to make him more than anything else in the world.

But he heard himself saying, very gently, almost tenderly, "It might be done, Mr.Stoller.But I couldn't do it.
It wouldn't be honest--for me." "Yah!" yelled Stoller, and he crushed the paper into a wad and flung it into Burnamy's face.

"Honest, you damn humbug! You let me in for this, when you knew I didn't mean it, and now you won't help me out because it a'n't honest! Get out of my room, and get out quick before I--" He hurled himself toward Burnamy, who straightened himself, with "If you dare!" He knew that he was right in refusing; but he knew that Stoller was right, too, and that he had not meant the logic of what he had said in his letter, and of what Burnamy had let him imply.