“Then stop away.”
“No, thanks. Now look here, Glyddyr, dear boy, what’s the use of your cutting up rusty when we are obliged to row so much in the same boat?”
“Curse you! I’d like to throw you overboard.”
“Of course you would, my dear fellow, but you see you can’t. Rather an awkward remark though, that, when I’m coming for a cruise with you in the yacht—my yacht.”
Glyddyr crushed up the newspaper into a ball, and cast it across to the corner of the room.
“What’s the matter, old man? I say, what a delicious sole! Ever catch any on the yacht?”
The sound of Glyddyr’s teeth grating could be plainly heard.
“Be no good to throw me overboard to feed the fishes, my dear boy. I’m thoroughly well insured, both as to money—and protection,” he added meaningly. “Hope this fish was not fed in that peculiar way. Tlat! Capital coffee. Now then, talk. I can eat and listen. How is it going on with the girl?”
“Reuben Gellow, your insolence is insufferable.”
“My dear Gellow, I must have a thou, to-morrow,” said the visitor, mockingly. “Your words, dear boy, when you want money; the other when you don’t want money. What a contrast! Well, I don’t care. Capital butter this! It shows me that everything is progressing well with the pretty heiress, and that Parry Glyddyr, Esquire, will pay his debts like a gentleman. Come, old fellow, don’t twist about in your chair like a skinned eel.”