You want your money.

I have it all ready for you.

But I must make out some sort of receipt, you know." Turner felt vaguely in his pocket, and at last found a letter, from which he tore the blank sheet, while his companion, glancing from time to time at the window, watched him impatiently.
"Seems to me," said Turner, opening his inkstand, "that the vintage of 1850 will not be drunk by a Republic." "Ah! indeed." "What do you think ?" "Well, to tell you the truth, my mind was more occupied in the quality of the vintage than in its ultimate fate.

If you make out a receipt on behalf of Mrs.St.Pierre Lawrence, I will sign it," answered Colville, fingering the blotting-paper.
"Received on behalf of, and for, Mrs.St.Pierre Lawrence, the sum of one hundred thousand francs," muttered the banker, as he wrote.
"She is only a client, you understand, my dear Colville," he went on, holding out his hand for the blotting-paper, "or I would not part with the money so easily.

It is against my advice that Mrs.St.Pierre Lawrence realises this sum." "If a woman sets her heart on a thing, my dear fellow--" began Colville, carelessly.
"Yes, I know--reason goes to the wall.