“Yes, I do, ’pon my word, Rob. But you will help me, won’t you?”
“No. Go to the constable’s place, and they’ll give you an order for the workhouse. Be off, and if you ever dare to come asking for me again, I’ll send for the officer at once.”
“But—but you will give me a shilling or two, Hallam,” said the miserable wretch. “I’m half-starved.”
“You deserve to be quite starved! Now go.”
“But, Hallam, won’t you believe me, old fellow? I want to be honest now—to do the right thing.”
“Go and do it, then,” said Hallam contemptuously. “Be off.”
“But give me a chance, old fellow; just one.”
“I tell you I’ll do nothing for you,” cried Hallam fiercely. “On the strength of your having been once respectable, if you had come to me humbly I’d have helped you, but you came down here to try and frighten me with your noise and bullying. You thought that if you came to the bank you would be able to dictate all your own terms; but you have failed, Stephen Crellock: so now go.”
“But, Rob, old fellow, I was so—so hard up. You don’t know.”
“Are you going before I send for the constable?”