“Damn it. He does,” said Stukeley.
“Well,” said Haly, “then I hope it’s not a large sum. But still, now you’re married to an heiress, you lucky dog, why, you can laugh at old Bent, I should think.”
“Yes,” said Stukeley quietly. “What time is old Bent coming here?”
Haly shrugged his shoulders. “We’re not in town now,” he said. “He might come any time.”
Stukeley offered his friend some more beer.
“By the way, Tom,” said Haly, “I don’t want to rob you, but could you lend me a fiver, just to go on with?”
“I’m sorry, Monty,” said his friend; “I never lend money.”
“Oh, come, Tom,” said Haly. “Don’t be a swine, man. I’d lend it to you fast enough. I’d not see a friend in want.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” said Tom. “But I never lend money.”
“Damn it,” said Haly, lowering his voice to a whining reproachful tone. “Well, I wouldn’t be a mean swine. Lord, man! I gave you the office about Bent. You might have a little gratitude. What’s a fiver to you? Don’t be a swine, man. I wouldn’t refuse you, I know.”