Craft for craft, and I can wait.

For Irma's sake!" On his way to the office for the first time he steadied his nerve with the bar-keeper's aid.

The blood bounded in his pulses under the unaccustomed stimulant.
He was devil-may-care in his manner as he listlessly turned over his morning mail, thrusting his pistol back into the bank portmanteau.

The sight of the familiar case recalled to him his dangerous position.
"I must play my policy game softly now," he mused.

"Whatever happens, I must meet Ferris smoothly; but once that Jack Witherspoon is safely out of town to the West, I'll have him face up old Hugh.
It's either life with Irma, or death without her!" Mechanically carrying on his routine, he opened his mail, after exchanging a few careless words with Somers over the "new deal" in the company's management.
"I shall get your bank deposits ready early," kindly said old Somers.