"Quite so. That's it. My only comfort is--that something might happen,"
and he paused.

Porson fidgeted about on the edge of the leather sofa and turned red. In
his heart he was wondering whether he dared offer to pay off the debts.
This he was quite able to do; more, he was willing to do, since to him,
good simple man, the welfare of the ancient house of Monk, of which his
only sister had married the head, was a far more important thing than
parting with a certain number of thousands of pounds. For birth and
station, in his plebeian humility, John Porson had a reverence which
was almost superstitious. Moreover, he had loved his dead sister
dearly, and, in his way, he loved her son also. Also he revered his
brother-in-law, the polished and splendid-looking Colonel, although it
was true that sometimes he writhed beneath his military and aristocratic
heel. Particularly, indeed, did he resent, in his secret heart, those
continual sarcasms about his taste in architecture.

Now, although the monetary transactions between them had been many, as
luck would have it--entirely without his own design--they chanced in the
main to have turned to his, Porson's, advantage. Thus, owing chiefly
to his intelligent development of its possibilities, the land which he
bought from the Monk estate had increased enormously in value; so much
so, indeed, that, even if he lost all the other sums advanced upon
mortgage, he would still be considerably to the good. Therefore, as it
happened, the Colonel was really under no obligations to him. In these
circumstances, Mr. Porson did not quite know how a cold-blooded offer
of an advance of cash without security--in practice a gift--would be
received.