He glanced for a moment at his hands, hardened and blistered with the actual toil which he loved--and he looked his brother straight in the face.
"Cecil," he said, "I believe you're ashamed of me." "Of course I am," the younger man answered brutally.

"It's your own fault.

You choose to make a fisherman or a labouring man of yourself.

I haven't seen you in a decent suit of clothes for years.

You won't dress for dinner.