Why shouldn't he take his money?
"See here, old man," said Plank, extending a huge highly coloured hand, "is all square between us now ?" "I think so," muttered Mortimer.
But Plank would not relinquish his hand.
"Then tell me how to draw that cheque! Great Heaven, Mortimer, what is friendship, anyhow, if it doesn't include little matters like this--little misunderstandings like this?
I'm the man to be sensitive, not you.

You have been very good to me, Mortimer.

I could almost wish you in a position where the only thing I possess might square something of my debt to you." A few minutes later, while he was filling in the cheque, a dusty youth in riding clothes and spurs came in and found a seat by one of the windows, into which he dropped, and then looked about him for a servant.
"Hello, Fleetwood!" said Mortimer, glancing over his shoulder to see whose spurs were ringing on the polished floor.
Fleetwood saluted amiably with his riding-crop; including Plank, whom he did not know, in a more formal salute.
"Will you join us ?" asked Mortimer, taking the cheque which Plank offered and carelessly pocketing it without even a nod of thanks.

"You know Beverly Plank, of course?
What! I thought everybody knew Beverly Plank." Mr.Fleetwood and Mr.Plank shook hands and resumed their seats.
"Ripping weather!" observed Fleetwood, replacing his hat and rebuttoning the glove which he had removed to shake hands with Plank.

"Lot of jolly people out this morning.