Talking on, Wesson managed with his final words to add the last straw.
"Of course," he said, "that money you lost to me at picquet—What was it? Ten? Twenty? Twenty pounds, wasn't it? Well, we could look on that as canceled, of course. That will be all right."
Spennie exploded.
"Will it?" he cried, pink to the ears. "Will it, by George? I'll pay you every frightful penny of it before the end of the week. What do you take me for, I should like to know?"
"A fool, if you refuse my offer."
"I've a fearfully good mind to give you a most frightful kicking."
"I shouldn't try, Spennie, if I were you. It's not the form of indoor game at which you'd shine. Better stick to picquet."
"If you think I can't pay you your rotten money——"
"I do. But if you can, so much the better. Money is always useful."
"I may be a fool in some ways——"