You can't ask for any more conservative citizen than Dysart, can you ?" Several men looked around for Dysart, but he had stepped out of the room.
Ellis said, after a silence: "That gambling outfit from the West has bedevilled one or two good citizens in Gotham town." Dr.Bailey shrugged his big, fat shoulders.
"It's no secret, I suppose, that the Minnisink crowd is being talked about," he grunted.
Ellis said in a low but perfectly distinct voice: "Neither is it any secret that Jack Dysart has been hit hard in National Ice." Peter Tappan slipped from his seat on the table and threw away his cigarette: "One thing is sure as soubrettes," he observed; "the Clearing House means to get rid of certain false prophets.

The game law is off prophets--in the fall.

There'll be some good gunning--under the laws of New Jersey." "I hope they'll be careful not to injure any marble columns or ruin the gold-leaf on the ceilings," sneered Ellis.

"Come on, some of you fellows, and fix the buckle in this cursed stock of mine." "I thought fixing stocks was rather in your own line," said Duane to the foxy-visaged and celebrated manipulator, who joined very heartily in the general and unscrupulous laugh.
A moment later, Dysart, who had heard every word from the doorway, walked silently back to his own room and sat down, resting his temples between his closed fists.
The well-cut head was already silvery gray at the temples; one month had done it.

When animated, his features still appeared firm and of good colour; relaxed, they were loose and pallid, and around the mouth fine lines appeared.