Episode Two: The Ruling Passion Chapter 4

Only the trout in Star Pond would ever sample that hootch again.

Clinch, now slightly intoxicated, leaned heavily on the pantry shelf beside Smith, adjusting his pistol under his suspenders.

"Young fella," he said in his agreeable voice, "you're dead right. You sure said a face-full when you says to me, `Eve's a lady, by God!' You oughta know. You was a gentleman yourself once. Even if you take to stickin' up the turn. She is a lady. All I'm livin' for is to get her down to the city and give her money to live like a lady. I'll do it yet. ... Soon! ... I'd do it to-morrow -- to-night -- if I dared ... If I thought it sure fire. ... If I was dead certain I could get away with it. ... I've got money, Now! ... Only it ain't in money ... Smith?"

"Yes, Mike."

"You know me?"

"Sure."

"You size me up?"

"I do."

"All right. If you ever tell anyone I got money that ain't money I'll shoot you through the head."

"Don't worry, Clinch."

"I ain't. You're a crook; you won't talk. You're a gentleman, too. They don't sell out a pal. Say, Hal, there's only one fella I don't want to meet."

"Who's that, Mike?"

"Lemme tell you," continued Clinch, resting more heavily on the shelf while Smith, looking out through the pantry shutter at the dancing, listened intently.