The light of truth began to glimmer through those folds of young self-confidence. Jeremy grew sober; he was no more so gay and so assured in talking with Eva Raymore. He allowed himself to dwell less on that mythical return to Milldean with fame and riches. Now and then, it must be confessed, he had to brace himself up lest his very courage should falter. He contrived to keep it; but with it there came now a feeling new to Jeremy--a humility, a sense that he was, after all, as other men were, and neither by natural endowment nor by any rare caprice of fortune to be different from them or to find his life other than theirs. He too was not above the need of a helping hand; for want of it he too might have to tread very long and very dreary paths before he made much impression on the hill which he had set out to climb so gaily, and with so little provender for the journey. In such a mood as this he was as incapable of expecting any sudden interposition of outside aid as of refusing it when it came. He would protest, he would declare that he must refuse, but refuse in the end he could not. The fierce jealousy of his independence was cooled by his new experience of the world. He heard first of what was being done from one of the partners down at Romford. The matter was practically concluded, he was told; in two years' time he was to have the junior partnership, and the share allotted to him at that date would be somewhat larger in consideration of the stipulated capital being paid immediately--it happened to be wanted for an extension of the buildings. Jeremy threw over work for that day, and hurried back to London--to refuse. But all the way he was thinking of the incredible difference this benevolent interposition would make. He found Grantley in his study after lunch. The deed regulating the arrangements between the partners on the one side and Jeremy and himself on the other was before him. A look at Jeremy's face told him that Jeremy knew. "I--I can't take it, you know," Jeremy blurted out. "You can't escape the obligations Sibylla has brought on you by marrying me," smiled Grantley. "Of course Sibylla's been at you--told you she couldn't be happy unless----" "Nothing of the kind. Sibylla knows nothing about it; and, what's more, she isn't to know till I choose to tell her--till I choose, not you--that's part of the bargain, Jeremy." Jeremy sat down. Anxious to avoid a formal talking-over of the matter, Grantley got up and lit a cigarette. "Then why have you done it?" asked Jeremy. Grantley shrugged his shoulders.