Unhappily the grand scheme was a failure; and the hundred pounds being gone, George applied again to his brother, reminding him once more of that promise made in Bloomsbury.

But on this occasion Mr.Sheldon plainly told his kinsman that he could do no more for him.
"You must fight your own battle, George," he said, "as I have fought mine." "Thank you, Philip," said the younger brother; "I would rather fight it any other way." And then the two men looked at each other, as they were in the habit of doing sometimes, with a singularly intent gaze.
"You're very close-fisted with Tom Halliday's money," George said presently.

"If I'd asked poor old Tom himself, I'm sure he wouldn't have refused to lend me two or three hundred." "Then it's a pity you didn't ask him," Mr.Sheldon answered, with supreme coolness.
"I should have done so fast enough, if I had thought he was going to die so suddenly.

It was a bad day for me, and for him too, when he came to Fitzgeorge-street." "What do you mean by that ?" asked Mr.Sheldon sharply.
"You can pretty well guess my meaning, I should think," George answered in a sulky tone.
"No, I can't; and what's more, I don't mean to try.

I'll tell you what it is, Master George; you've been treating me to a good many hints and innuendoes lately; and you must know very little of me if you don't know that I'm the last kind of man to stand that sort of thing from you, or from any one else.