"Oh, Mr. Vavasor," said Magruin; "really this is no morning for business!"
"Time and tide wait for no man, Mr. Magruin, and my friend wants his money to-morrow."
"Oh, Mr. Vavasor,—to-morrow!"
"Yes, to-morrow. If time and tide won't wait, neither will love. Come, Mr. Magruin, out with your cheque-book, and don't let's have any nonsense."
"But is the lady sure, Mr. Vavasor?" asked Mr. Magruin, anxiously.
"Ladies never are sure," said Vavasor; "hardly more sure than bills made over to money-lenders. I'm not going to wait here all day. Are you going to give him the money?"
"Christmas-day, Mr. Vavasor! There's no getting money in the city to-day."
But Vavasor before he left did get the money from Mr. Magruin,—£122 10s.—for which an acceptance at two months for £500 was given in exchange,—and carried it off in triumph. "Do tell him to be punctual," said Mr. Magruin, when Vavasor took his leave. "I do so like young men to be punctual. But I really think Mr. Fitzgerald is the most unpunctual young man I ever did know yet."
"I think he is," said George Vavasor, as he went away.
He ate his Christmas dinner in absolute solitude at an eating-house near his lodgings. It may be supposed that no man dares to dine at his club on a Christmas Day. He at any rate did not so dare;—and after dinner he wandered about through the streets, wondering within his mind how he would endure the restraints of married life. And the same dull monotony of his days was continued for a week, during which he waited, not impatiently, for an answer to his letter. And before the end of the week the answer came.