"Nay," retorted Mrs. Briarley. "That tha'rt not, an' it's a pity tha did na foind that theer out thirteen year ago." Mr. Briarley shook his head with a still deeper depression. "Ay, Sararann," he answered, "seems loike it is." He did not recover himself until Murdoch took his departure, and then he followed him deprecatingly to the door. "Does tha think," he asked, "as that theer's true?" "That what is true?" "That theer th' chaps has been talkin' ower." "I don't know," answered Murdoch, "what they have been talking over." "They're gettin' it goin' among 'em as Haworth's goin' to tak' Ffrench in partner." Murdoch looked up the road for a few seconds before he replied. He was thinking over the events of the past week. "I do not think it is true," he said, after this pause. "I don't think it can be. Haworth is not the man to do it." But the idea was such a startling one, presented in this form, that it gave him a kind of shock; and as he went on his way naturally thinking over the matter, he derived some consolation from repeating aloud his last words: "No, it is not likely. Haworth is not the man to do it." CHAPTER XVII. A FLOWER. But at last it was evident that the acquaintance between Haworth and Ffrench had advanced with great rapidity. Ffrench appeared at the Works, on an average, three or four times a week, and it had become a common affair for Haworth to spend an evening with him and his daughter. He was more comfortable in his position of guest in these days. Custom had given him greater ease and self-possession. After two visits he had begun to give himself up to the feverish enjoyment of the hour. His glances were no longer furtive and embarrassed. At times he reached a desperate boldness. "There's something about her," he said to Murdoch, "that draws a fellow on and holds him off both at the same time. Sometimes I nigh lose my head when I'm with her." He was moody and resentful at times, but he went again and again, and held his own after a manner. On the occasion of the first dinner Mr. Ffrench gave to his old friends, no small excitement was created by Haworth's presence among the guests. The first man who, entering the room with his wife and daughters, caught sight of his brawny frame and rather dogged face, faltered and grew nervous, and would have turned back if he had possessed the courage to be the first to protest. Everybody else lacked the same courage, it appeared, for nobody did protest openly, though there were comments enough made in private, and as much coldness of manner as good breeding would allow. Miss Ffrench herself was neither depressed nor ill at ease. It was reluctantly admitted that she had never appeared to a greater advantage nor in better spirits.