“Unnecessary.”
The tortured young man raised his voice.
“It is necessary! You shall! You must!”
“Barley water!” Mr. Marrapit gasped. “Barley water! I am going to be murdered.”
“Oh, this is insupportable!” George cried.
“I endorse that. A double death threatens me. I shudder between a stroke and a blow. I shall be battered to death on my own lawn.”
“If you would only listen to me,” George implored. “Why can we never be natural when we meet?”
“Search your heart for the answer,” Mr. Marrapit told him. “It is because your demands are unnatural.”
“You haven't heard them. Listen. I am on the threshold of my career. I am sure you will not ruin it. The real price of this practice is 650 pounds—the value of a year and a half's income; that is the usual custom. I am offered it for four hundred. Then I want to marry and to have a little balance with which to start—say 100 pounds for that. That makes 500 pounds altogether. I implore you to lend—lend, not give—that sum. I will pay you back 50 pounds at the end of the first year and a hundred a year afterwards. Interest too. I don't know much about these things. Any interest you like. We would get a solicitor to draw up an agreement. Say you will lend the money. I feel sure you will.”
“You delude yourself by that assurance.”