"You see those affairs that promise so much are apt to fail when it comes to a question of performance.

I'm not a capitalist; I can't afford to become a speculator.

I've been living from hand to mouth lately by means of occasional contributions to a sporting weekly, and a little bit of business which your brother threw in my way.

I've been able to be tolerably useful to him, and he promises to get me something in the way of a clerkship, foreign correspondence, and that kind of thing." "Humph!" muttered George Sheldon; "that means eighty pounds a year and fourteen hours' work a day, letters that must be answered by this mail, and so on.

I don't think that kind of drudgery would ever suit you, Hawkehurst.