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pose you don’t conduct business on what you call unworldly
principles. The only difference I see is that one worldliness
is a little bit honester than another.’
‘This kind of discussion is unfruitful, Vincy,’ said Mr.
Bulstrode, who, finishing his sandwich, had thrown him-
self back in his chair, and shaded his eyes as if weary. ‘You
had some more particular business.’
‘Yes, yes. The long and short of it is, somebody has told
old Featherstone, giving you as the authority, that Fred has
been borrowing or trying to borrow money on the prospect
of his land. Of course you never said any such nonsense. But
the old fellow will insist on it that Fred should bring him a
denial in your handwriting; that is, just a bit of a note saying
you don’t believe a word of such stuff, either of his having
borrowed or tried to borrow in such a fool’s way. I suppose
you can have no objection to do that.’
‘Pardon me. I have an objection. I am by no means sure
that your son, in his recklessness and ignorance—I will use
no severer word— has not tried to raise money by holding
out his future prospects, or even that some one may not
have been foolish enough to supply him on so vague a pre-
sumption: there is plenty of such lax money-lending as of
other folly in the world.’
‘But Fred gives me his honor that he has never borrowed
money on the pretence of any understanding about his
uncle’s land. He is not a liar. I don’t want to make him bet-
ter than he is. I have blown him up well—nobody can say I
wink at what he does. But he is not a liar. And I should have
thought—but I may be wrong— that there was no religion

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