"I understand. That is to say, it is wicked to pay your debts with counterfeit notes, so it is better not to pay them at all."
"Nonsense, Basil! I am not talking of paying debts."
"But I am."
"What have debts got to do with it?"
"I beg your pardon. I understood you to declare your disapprobation of false money, and your preference for another sort of dishonesty."
"Dishonest, Basil! there is no dishonesty."
"By what name do you call it?"
He was speaking gravely, though with a surface pleasantry; both gravity and pleasantry were of a very winning kind. Diana looked on and listened, much interested, as well as amused; Gertrude puzzled and impatient, though unable to resist the attraction. She hesitated, and surveyed him.
"There can't be dishonesty unless where one owes something."
"Precisely"—he said, glancing at her. His hands were busy at the time with a supple twig he had cut from one of the trees, which he was trimming of its leaves and buds.