Here, doctor; here, here, here!" and, so saying, he replaced his treasure beneath his pillow.
There was something so horrifying in this, that Dr Thorne shrank back amazed, and was for a moment unable to speak.
"But, Scatcherd," he said at last; "surely you would not die for such a passion as that ?" "Die for it?
Aye, would I.Live for it while I can live; and die for it when I can live no longer.

Die for it! What is that for a man to do?
Do not men die for a shilling a day?
What is a man the worse for dying?
What can I be the worse for dying?
A man can die but once, you said just now.

I'd die ten times for this." "You are speaking now either in madness, or else in folly, to startle me." "Folly enough, perhaps, and madness enough, also.

Such a life as mine makes a man a fool, and makes him mad too.

What have I about me that I should be afraid to die?
I'm worth three hundred thousand pounds; and I'd give it all to be able to go to work to-morrow with a hod and mortar, and have a fellow clap his hand upon my shoulder, and say: 'Well, Roger, shall us have that 'ere other half-pint this morning ?' I'll tell you what, Thorne, when a man has made three hundred thousand pounds, there's nothing left for him but to die.