A liqueur-glassful will do me all the good in the world." "You won't get it, Monty, so it's no use whining," Trent said bluntly.
"I've given way to you too much already.

Buck up, man! We're on the threshold of fortune and we need all our wits about us." "Of fortune--fortune!" Monty's head dropped upon his chest, his nostrils dilated, he seemed to fall into a state of stupor.

Trent watched him half curiously, half contemptuously.
"You're terribly keen on money-making for an old 'un," he remarked, after a somewhat lengthy pause.

"What do you want to do with it ?" "To do with it!" The old man raised his head.

"To do with it!" The gleam of reawakened desire lit up his face.