He seemed genuinely embarrassed.
'By Jove! I--confound it! To tell you the truth, I haven't ten pounds to lend.

Upon my word, I haven't, Reardon! These infernal housekeeping expenses! I don't mind telling you, old man, that Edith and I have been pushing the pace rather.' He laughed, and thrust his hands down into his trousers-pockets.

'We pay such a darned rent, you know--hundred and twenty-five.

We've only just been saying we should have to draw it mild for the rest of the winter.

But I'm infernally sorry; upon my word I am.' 'And I am sorry to have annoyed you by the unseasonable request.' 'Devilish seasonable, Reardon, I assure you!' cried the secretary, and roared at his joke.