A man and a woman wager $1,000 on who will marry first. The woman says that her consolation, if she wins the money, will be shoes. The man says that his consolation, if he wins the bet, will be to pile the money in a heavy lump on his bed and sleep with it. Time passes, and they lose touch and grow apart. Years later, on the day of her wedding, he shows up -- a wretch -- demanding his money. The groom and groomsmen make short work of him in his pitiable and decrepit state. He lies in a bloody heap by the church. The sun feels good. Some time later, he feels a plop on his chest. The indignant bride has pawned some of her wedding presents so as not to give him the satisfaction that she finked on the bet. He clutches the sack of money, smiling, squinting in the sunlight.