[ What, that's not enough? Byerly's lips twist in frustration and annoyance, but, well - yes. Nash did pay. Rather handsomely, and without hesitation. So after just a moment, he pushes a stray lock of hair from off his forehead, and goes on. ]

When I was but a callow youth, some anonymous wag started a sweet little rumor about me, which my father swallowed whole. He swallowed it eagerly. I expect the raconteur forgot about the lie as soon as it passed his lips, but my father held onto it, and brought it out into the sunlight day after day, week after week. It became the old miser's fondest treasure. He polished it and coddled it like one of his family heirlooms. So one day I decided, no, no more, and I packed my things and left for the capital.

[ This is a slight misrepresentation of how it all ended. It ended rather more dramatically than By slipping away into the night. But the image of what he was like that night...Well. Sharing that would do rather a lot to undermine the suave image he tries to maintain. ]