But he was a little before the appointed time and was obliged to wait a few minutes in an anteroom--there was a directors' meeting of some sort in Sheridan's office.

The door was slightly ajar, leaking cigar-smoke and oratory, the latter all Sheridan's, and Gurney listened.
"No, sir; no, sir; no, sir!" he heard the big voice rumbling, and then, breaking into thunder, "I tell you NO! Some o' you men make me sick! You'd lose your confidence in Almighty God if a doodle-bug flipped his hind leg at you! You say money's tight all over the country.

Well, what if it is?
There's no reason for it to be tight, and it's not goin' to keep OUR money tight! You're always runnin' to the woodshed to hide your nickels in a crack because some fool newspaper says the market's a little skeery! You listen to every street-corner croaker and then come and set here and try to scare ME out of a big thing! We're IN on this--understand?
I tell you there never WAS better times.

These are good times and big times, and I won't stand for any other kind o' talk.
This country's on its feet as it never was before, and this city's on its feet and goin' to stay there!" And Gurney heard a series of whacks and thumps upon the desk.

"'Bad times'!" Sheridan vociferated, with accompanying thumps.