"I haven't found it easy getting all that belongs to me." "You have found it easier getting what belongs to some one else," was the snarling response.
Ingolby's jaw hardened.

What did the fellow mean?
Did he refer to money, or--was it Fleda Druse?
"See here," he said, "there's no need to say things like that.

I never took anything that didn't belong to me, that I didn't win, or earn or pay for--market price or 'founder's shares'"-- he smiled grimly.

"You've given me the best treat I've had in many a day.
I'd walk fifty miles to hear you play my Sarasate--or even old Berry's cotton-field fiddle.

I'm as grateful as I can be, and I'd like to pay you for it; but as you're not a professional, and it's one gentleman to another as it were, I can only thank you--or maybe help you to get what's your own, if you're really trying to get it out here.