"All but about a hundred dollars."

"Well, you have had your game; now you must pay for it."

Billy had imagination, and he was melodramatic. He felt danger ahead.

"I'll go and shoot myself!" he said, banging the table with his fist so
that the whiskey-tumbler shook.

He was hardly prepared for what followed. Charley's nerves had been
irritated; his teeth were on edge. This threat, made in such a cheap,
insincere way, was the last thing in the world he could bear to hear.
He knew that Billy lied; that if there was one thing Billy would not do,
shooting himself was that one thing. His own life was very sweet to
Billy Wantage. Charley hated him the more at that moment because he
was Kathleen's brother. For if there was one thing he knew of Kathleen,
it was that she could not do a mean thing. Cold, unsympathetic she might
be, cruel at a pinch perhaps, but dishonourable--never! This weak,
cowardly youth was her brother! No one had ever seen such a look on
Charley Steele's face as came upon it now--malicious, vindictive. He
stooped over Billy in a fury.

"You think I'm a fool and an ass--you ignorant, brainless, lying cub!
You make me a thief before all the world by forging my name, and stealing
the money for which I am responsible, and then you rate me so low that
you think you'll bamboozle me by threats of suicide. You haven't the
courage to shoot yourself--drunk or sober. And what do you think would
be gained by it? Eh, what do you think would be gained? You can't see
that you'd insult your sister as well as--as rob me."