"Why, damn it, you pinch too hard. Well, and what success?" "Why, what do you think?" "Another _put-off_; another _call-again_, to-be-sure." "I would not go till he downed with the stuff." "No!" (with a broad stare;) "it a'n't possible." "Seeing is believing, I hope;" (producing a piece of paper.) "Why, so it is. A check!--but--what's that name?--let's see," (stooping to examine the signature:)--"_Jane Talbot_. Who the devil is she?" "Don't you know her? She's his sister. A devilish rich girl." "But how? does _she_ lend him money?" "Yes, to-be-sure. She's his sister, you know." "But how does she get money? Is she a widow?" "No. She is a girl, I've heard, not eighteen. 'Tis not my look-out how she gets money, so as her check's good; and that I'll fix as soon as the door's open." "Why, damn it if I don't think it a forgery. How should such a girl as that get so much money?" "Can't conceive. Coax or rob her aunt of it, I suppose. If she's such another as Frank, she is able to outwit the devil. I hope it may be good. If it isn't, he sha'n't be his own man one day longer." "But how did you succeed so well?" "He asked me yesterday to call once more. So I called, you see, betimes, and, finding that he had a check for a little more than my debt, I teased him out of it, promising to give him the balance. I pity the fellow from my soul. It was all for trinkets and furniture bought by that prodigal jade, Mademoiselle Couteau. She would ruin a prince, if she had him as much at her command as she has Frank. Little does the sister know for what purpose she gives her money: however, that, as I said before, be her look-out." During this dialogue, my eye was fixed upon the artist, who, with the watch open in one hand, and a piece of wire in the other, was describing, with great formality, the exact nature of the defect and the whole process of the cure; but, though I looked steadfastly at him, I heard not a syllable of his dissertation. I broke away when his first pause allowed me.