"I am quite fond enough of it, sir, to take all that I can earn."
"That does not seem to be much, George. You haven't played your cards well—have you, my boy?"
"No, uncle; not very well. I might have done better."
"No man is respected without money—no man. A poor man is always thrust to the wall—always. Now you will be a poor man, I fear, all your life."
"Then I must put up with the wall, sir."
"But why were you so harsh with me when I wanted you to marry her? Do you see now what you have done? Look at her, and what she might have been. Look at yourself, and what you might have been. Had you done that, you might have been my heir in everything."
"Well, sir, I have made my bed, and I must lie upon it. I have cause enough for regret—though, to tell the truth, it is not about your money."
"Ah, I knew you would be stiff to the last," said Mr. Bertram, angry that he could not move his nephew to express some sorrow about the half-million.
"Am I stiff, sir? Indeed, I do not mean it."
"No, it's your nature. But we will not quarrel at the last; will we, George?"