Those were his very words.
It is not in my power to lend it.

As to what you say, Robert, you may be right or you may be wrong, but I certainly shall not give Mr.Raffles Haw or anyone else the money without Hector's express command." "You are very right about not giving it to Mr.Raffles Haw," cried old McIntyre, with many nods of approbation.

"I should certainly not let it go out of the family." "Well, I thought that I would tell you." Robert picked up his Tam-o'-Shanter and strolled out to avoid the discussion between his father and sister, which he saw was about to be renewed.

His artistic nature revolted at these petty and sordid disputes, and he turned to the crisp air and the broad landscape to soothe his ruffled feelings.

Avarice had no place among his failings, and his father's perpetual chatter about money inspired him with a positive loathing and disgust for the subject.
Robert was lounging slowly along his favourite walk which curled over the hill, with his mind turning from the Roman invasion to the mysterious millionaire, when his eyes fell upon a tall, lean man in front of him, who, with a pipe between his lips, was endeavouring to light a match under cover of his cap.