'All right. You'll get it at the end of term.'
'I want it now.'
'Why?'
'Awfully hard up, old chap.'
'You aren't,' said Farnie. 'You've got three pounds twelve and sixpence half-penny. If you will keep counting your money in public, you can't blame a chap for knowing how much you've got.'
Monk, slightly disconcerted, changed his plan of action. He abandoned skirmishing tactics.
'Never mind that,' he said, 'the point is that I want that four pounds. I'm going to have it, too.'
'I know. At the end of term.'
'I'm going to have it now.'
'You can have a pound of it now.'