"Facetious! there is nothing to be facetious about in the matter. I should say, if your friend have a lot of this wretched stuff thrown on his hands, he must consider the affair something beyond a joke."
Mr. Swanland took a short walk up and down his office, then, the better apparently for this exercise, he paused and said,
"That wretched stuff, as you call it, was made at Homewood."
Mortomley sat silent for a moment before he remarked,
"I am very sorry to hear it."
"You are not, sir," retorted Mr. Swanland.
"I am," was the reply. "Do you suppose I lost all care for my own trade reputation when, unfortunately, part of it was given over to your keeping?"
And the two men, both now standing, looked straight and dangerously the one at the other.
"Come, Mr. Mortomley," said Mr. Swanland at last, breaking the spell by withdrawing his eyes, in the same fashion as inquisitive folks in Ireland used to be compelled to turn their gaze from the Leprechaun, "we need not bandy hard words about this unfortunate business, though, I must say, you are the first bankrupt in whose affairs I ever had any concern, who refused to assist me to the extent of his power."