"He got his margin," said Hugh sullenly.
"How much margin did he get?"
"A thousand."
"Where is the rest?" David Stires' voice was like a whip of steel.
Hugh hesitated a moment. He had still a few hundreds in pocket, but he did not mention them.
"I used most of it. I—had a few debts."
"Debts of honor, I presume!"
Hugh's sensibility quivered at the fierce, grating irony of the inquiry.
"If you'd been more decent with spending-money," he said with a flare of the old effrontery, "I'd have been all right! Ever since I came home you've kept me strapped. I was ashamed to stick up any more of my friends. And of course I couldn't borrow from Jessica."
"Ashamed!" exclaimed the old man with harsh sternness. "You are without the decency of shame! If you were capable of feeling it, you would not mention her name now!"