"It's not a hundred dollars.

You won't touch it; you won't touch my money, I tell you." "Ah, how does it happen to be yours, I'd like to know ?" "It's mine! It's mine! It's mine!" cried Trina, her face scarlet, her teeth clicking like the snap of a closing purse.
"It ain't any more yours than it is mine." "Every penny of it is mine." "Ah, what a fine fix you'd get me into," growled the dentist.

"I've signed the paper with the owner; that's business, you know, that's business, you know; and now you go back on me.

Suppose we'd taken the house, we'd 'a' shared the rent, wouldn't we, just as we do here ?" Trina shrugged her shoulders with a great affectation of indifference and began chopping the onions again.
"You settle it with the owner," she said.

"It's your affair; you've got the money." She pretended to assume a certain calmness as though the matter was something that no longer affected her.