G. B. Want five shillings! You keep on saying that, and never say what you want it for. You must have some object. Do you want it to go and get drunk on?
B. B. (with a beery persistence). Lend me five shillings.
G. B. (reflectively). I don't intend to.
B. B. (in a tone of compromise). Then lend me a sovereign.
G. B. (changing the subject with a chilling hospitality). Would you like anything after that beef?
B. B. (doggedly). I should like five shillings.
G. B. (irrelevantly). Look here! I at once admit you've got more brain than I have.
B. B. (handsomely). Not at all—it's you that have got more brain than me.
G. B. (rejecting this overture suspiciously). I've more principle at any rate, and, to tell you the truth, I'm not going to put up with this dashed impertinent treatment any longer!
B. B. You're not, eh? Then lend me five shillings.