The other did not answer, but shot at Basil a glance of singular malevolence.
“You can whistle for your money, young feller,” he muttered, under his breath. “You won’t get much out of me.”
He had but small intention of paying back the rather large sum, but now abandoned even that. During the six months since Jenny’s married life he had never been able to surmount the freezing politeness with which Basil used him. He hated him for his supercilious air, but needing his help, took care, though sometimes he could scarcely keep his temper, to preserve a familiar cordiality. He knew his brother-in-law would welcome an opportunity to forbid him the house, and this, especially now that he was out of work, he determined to avoid. He stomached the affront as best he could, but solaced his pride with the determination sooner or later to revenge himself.
“Well, so long,” he cried, with undiminished serenity; “I’ll be toddling.”
Jenny watched this scene with some alarm, but with more irritation, since Basil’s frigid contempt for her brother seemed a reflection on herself.
“You might at least be polite to him,” she said, when Jimmie was gone.
“I’m afraid I’ve pretty well used up all my politeness.”
“After all, he is my brother.”
“That is a fact I deplore with all my heart,” he answered.
“You needn’t be so hard on him now he’s down. He’s no worse than plenty more.”