"It can't be.

Garry, it simply can not be!" "It can and is," said Garry pushing away the book.
"Adams still owes me five thousand dollars for his wife's portrait," sputtered Kenny.
"And now he's out of town." "What on earth did you do with Reynolds' last check?
You had enough there to live a year." Kenny looked dazed.
"I recognized the danger with Brian's commercial instinct gone," he stammered, "and--and conserved my funds." "You must have.

You bought a lot of clothes," reminded Garry.

"And paid some bills." "Some," admitted Kenny.
"Enough," commented Garry, "to establish, I suppose, one of your startling flurries of credit." Kenny had meant to pay more.

But the bank had put an end to that to-day by intruding into his private affairs.