“But you owe me a matter of six hundred dollars.”
“I know it, but you said you wouldn't trouble me.”
“I didn't expect I should be obliged to,” said Morrison, smoothly. “But 'Circumstances alter cases,' you know. I shall have to ask you for it.”
“That's all the good it will do,” said Willis, irritably. “I haven't a cent to my name.”
“When do you expect to have?”
“Heaven knows; I don't.”
Ford was about to leave his companion and walk away, but Morrison had no intention of allowing the matter to end so. He laid his hand on Ford's shoulder and said, firmly: “Mr. Ford, this won't do. Yours is a debt of honor, and must be paid.”
“Will you be kind enough to let me know how it is to be paid?” demanded Ford, with an ugly sneer.
“That is your business, not mine, Mr. Ford.”
“Then, if it is my business, I'll give you notice when I can pay you. And now, good-afternoon.”