He was too filled with a sense of his own injuries; too excited to catch my tone or understand any reproof in my attitude.
"Oscar is really too dreadful," he went on; "he is quite shameless now; he begs and begs and begs, and of course I have given him money, have given him hundreds, quite as much as he ever gave me: but he is insatiable and recklessly extravagant besides. Of course I want to be quite fair to him: I've already given him back all he gave me. Don't you think that is all anyone can ask of me?"
I looked at him in astonishment.
"That is for you and Oscar," I said, "to decide together. No one else can judge between you."
"Why not?" he snapped out in his irritable way, "you know us both and our relations."
"No," I replied, "I don't know all the obligations and the interwoven services. Besides, I could not judge fairly between you."
He turned on me angrily, though I had spoken with as much kindness as I could.
"He seemed to want to make you judge between us," he cried. "I don't care who's the judge. I think if you give a man back what he has given you, that is all he can ask. It's a d——d lot more than most people get in this world."
After a pause he started off on a new line of thought: