The woman pointed to the little particles of white paper scattered about the floor.
"And that was not an agreement with this man?" she derisively asked.
"This man made an agreement with me, an open and honest agreement."
"Honest!" interpolated the scornful woman.
"And he had the right of saying yes or no to it. He's past the age of being wet-nursed into what he wants to do."
"Then he had the right to know what he was tied up with," parried the scoffing woman.
"He still has the right of saying yes or no to that agreement," declared Ganley as he brought his great, russet-coloured hand down on the berth-edge with a sudden blow. "But what's he to you, anyway?"
She looked from one to the other of the two men before her. But McKinnon gave her no chance to reply. The moment he had been waiting for had already arrived.
"I've had enough of this," he said as he held his hand out towards the sullen-faced Ganley. In this outstretched hand was a roll of bills held together by a rubber band.
"What's this?"
"It's your money!" said McKinnon.
"I won't take it!" retorted the other.
"You won't take it?"
