The sole result was that his mother watched Thomas with yet greater assiduity; and Thomas began to feel that her eyes were never off him, and to dislike them because he feared them. He felt them behind his back. They haunted him in Bagot Street. Happy with Lucy, even there those eyes followed him, as if searching to find out his secret; and a vague fear kept growing upon him that the discovery was at hand. Hence he became more and more cunning to conceal his visits. He dreaded what questions those questioning eyes might set the tongue asking. For he had not yet learned to lie. He prevaricated, no doubt; but lying may be a step yet further on the downward road. One good thing only came out of it all: he grew more and more in love with Lucy. He almost loved her. CHAPTER IX. BUSINESS. For some days Mr. Boxall was so uneasy about Mary that he forgot his appointment with Mr. Worboise. At length, however, when a thaw had set in, and she had began to improve, he went to call upon his old friend. "Ah, Boxall! glad to see you. What a man you are to make an appointment with! Are you aware, sir, of the value of time in London, not to say in this life generally? Are you aware that bills are due at certain dates, and that the man who has not money at his banker's to meet them is dishonored--euphemistically shifted to the bill?" Thus jocosely did Mr. Worboise play upon the well-known business habits of his friend, who would rather, or at least believed he would rather, go to the scaffold than allow a bill of his to be dishonored. But Mr. Boxall was in a good humor, too, this morning. "At least, Worboise," he answered, "I trust when the said bill is dishonored, you may not be the holder." "Thank you. I hope not. I don't like losing money." "Oh, don't mistake me! I meant for my sake, not yours." "Why?" "Because you would skin the place before you took the pound of flesh. I know you!" Mr. Worboise winced. Mr. Boxall thought he had gone too far, that is, had been rude. But Mr. Worboise laughed aloud. "You flatter me, Boxall," he said. "I had no idea I was such a sharp practitioner. But you ought to know best. We'll take care, at all events, to have this will of yours right." So saying, he went to a drawer to get it out. But Mr. Boxall still feared that his friend had thought him rude. "The fact is," he said, "I have been so uneasy about Mary." "Why? What's the matter?" interrupted Mr. Worboise, stopping on his way across the room. "Don't you know?" returned Mr. Boxall, in some surprise. "She's never got over that Hampstead Heath affair. She's been in bed ever since." "God bless me!" exclaimed the other. "I never heard a word of it. What was it?" So Mr. Boxall told as much as he knew of the story, and any way there was not much to tell. "Never heard a word of it!" repeated the lawyer. The statement made Mr. Boxall more uneasy than he cared to show.