No, no, Dicky, it won't do.

A gentleman can't live upon his friends.

None the less grateful.

How now?
From Mrs.
Butterworth! No money for three weeks! Bailiffs in the house! Now, curse me, if this is not too bad!' 'What is the matter ?' I asked, glancing up from my own letters.

The baronet's pale face had taken a tinge of red, and he was striding furiously up and down the bedroom with a letter crumpled up in his hand.
'It is a burning shame, Clarke,' he cried.