"If restitution is demanded, the Crown will not respect it.

'Twill be another sop to throw the whining curs that were crippled by the bubble, and who threaten to disturb the country if they are not appeased.

If Wharton carries out this exposure, we're beggars--utter beggars, that may ask an alms to quiet hunger." "'Tis Wharton's present hate of me," said he thoughtfully, and swore.
"The damned puppy! He'd make a sacrifice of me upon the altar of respectability, just as he made a sacrifice of the South Sea bubblers.
What else was the stinking rakehell seeking but to put himself right again in the eyes of a town that was nauseated with him and his excesses?
The self-seeking toad that makes virtue his profession--the virtue of others--and profligacy his recreation!" He smote fist into palm.

"There's a way to silence him." "Ah ?" she looked up quickly, hopefully.
"A foot or so of steel," Rotherby explained, and struck the hilt of his sword.

"I might pick a quarrel with him.