“I’m done for. I’m on the rocks. I’m a pauper.”
“A what?”
“A pauper.”
I laughed. The man was splendid. There was no other word for it.
“And shall I tell you something else that you are?” I said. “You are a low, sneaking liar. You are playing it low down on Eva.”
He laughed this time. It irritated me unspeakably.
“Don’t try to work off the hollow, mirthless laugh dodge on me,” I said, “because it won’t do. You’re a blackguard, and you know it.”
“I tell you I’m done for. I’ve barely a penny in the world.”
“Rot!” I said. “Don’t try that on me. You’ve let Eva down plop, and I’m jolly glad; but all the same you’re a skunk. Nothing can alter that. Why don’t you marry the girl?”
“I can’t,” he said. “It would be too dishonourable.”