You'll go to prison.

You can't work--can't work any more.

We're ruined." Vanovitch was pounding on the door of the sitting-room.
"He'll be gone in a minute," exclaimed McTeague.
"Well, let him go.

Tell him to go; tell him to come again." "Why, he's got an APPOINTMENT with me," exclaimed McTeague, his hand upon the door.
Trina caught him back.

"But, Mac, you ain't a dentist any longer; you ain't a doctor.