Brownwell's going!" "Going--going where ?" asked the man at the desk, blankly.
"Going to leave town.

He's been in and given notice that he wants his money in gold day after to-morrow." "Well--well!" exclaimed Barclay, with his eyes staring dumbly at nothing on the dingy white wall before him.

"Well--don't that beat the Jews?
Going to leave town!" He pulled himself together and gripped his chair as he said, "Not by a damn sight he ain't.

He's going to stay right here and sweat it out.

We need that four thousand dollars in our business.