In both hands she held one of the delft sugar-bowls.

She came up to the table, and emptied its contents upon the blue denim table-cover--two or three gold pieces, some fifteen silver dollars, and a handful of small change.
Disregarding all Condy's inquiries, she counted it, making little piles of the gold and silver and nickel pieces.
"Thirty-five and seven is forty-two," she murmured, counting off on her fingers, "and six is forty-eight, and ten is fifty-eight, and ten is sixty-eight; and here is ten, twenty, thirty, fifty-five cents in change." She thrust it all toward him, across the table.

"There," she said, "is your wherewithal." Condy stared.

"My wherewithal!" he muttered.
"It ought to be enough for over a month." "Where did you get all that?
Whose is it ?" "It's your money, Condy.

You loaned it to me, and now it has come in very handy." "I LOANED it to you ?" "It's the money I won from you during the time you've been playing poker with me.