A quick contempt and a sort of meditative sarcasm were in the tone.

It was curious, too, that he could smile, but the smile did not encourage Billy Wantage now.
"It's all gone, I suppose ?" he added.
"All but about a hundred dollars." "Well, you have had your game; now you must pay for it." Billy had imagination, and he was melodramatic.

He felt danger ahead.
"I'll go and shoot myself!" he said, banging the table with his fist so that the whiskey-tumbler shook.
He was hardly prepared for what followed.

Charley's nerves had been irritated; his teeth were on edge.

This threat, made in such a cheap, insincere way, was the last thing in the world he could bear to hear.
He knew that Billy lied; that if there was one thing Billy would not do, shooting himself was that one thing.