“As to bills renewed, protested, and to be protested,” said he, in the same easy tone, “they are legion. These take their course, and are no worse than any other man's bills; I don't fret myself about them. As in the old days of chivalry one never cared how scurvily he treated the 'villeins,' so he behaved like a knight to his equals; so nowadays a man must book up at Tattersall's though he cheat his tailor. I like the theory too; it keeps 'the ball rolling,' if it does nothing else.”
All this he rattled out as though his own fluency gave him a sort of Dutch courage; and who knows, too,—for there is a fund of vanity in these men,—if he was not vain of showing with what levity he could treat dangers that might have made the stoutest heart afraid?
“Taking the 'tottle of the whole' of these,—as old Joe Hume used to say,—it's an ugly balance!”
“What do you mean to do?” said she, quietly.
“Bolt, I suppose. I see nothing else for it.”
“And will that meet the difficulty?”
“No, but it will secure me; secure me from arrest, and the other unpleasant consequences that might follow arrest. To do this, however, I need money, and I have not five pounds—no, nor, I verily believe, five shillings—in the world.”
“There are a few trinkets of mine upstairs. I never wear them—”
“Not worth fifty pounds, the whole lot; nor would one get half fifty for them in a moment of pressure.”
“We have some plate—”