It's about my sister, St.
Ives,' and he shook his head menacingly at me.
'You're quite sure ?' I persisted.

'It's here, at your service--up to five hundred pounds, if you like.

Well, all right; only remember where it is, when you do want it.' 'Oh, please let me alone!' cried Ronald: 'I've come to say something unpleasant; and how on earth can I do it, if you don't give a fellow a chance?
It's about my sister, as I said.

You can see for yourself that it can't be allowed to go on.

It's compromising; it don't lead to anything; and you're not the kind of man (you must feel it yourself) that I can allow my female relatives to have anything to do with.