When he left the house, Haworth sprang into his gig with an oath. Since the morning he had had time to think over things slowly. He had worked himself up into a desperate, headlong mood. His blood burned in his veins, his pulses throbbed. He went home to his dinner, but ate nothing. He drank heavily, and sat at the table wearing such a look that his mother was stricken with wonder. "I'm out o' humor, old lady," he said to her. "Stick to your dinner, and don't mind me. A chap with a place like mine on his mind can't always be up to the mark." "If you ain't ill, Jem," she said, "it don't matter your not talkin'. You mustn't think o' me, my dear! I'm used to havin' lived alone so long." After dinner he went out again, but before he left the room he went to her and kissed her. "There's nowt wrong wi' me," he said. "You've no need to trouble yourself about that. I'm right enow, never fear." "There's nothin' else could trouble me," she said, "nothin', so long as you're well an' happy." "There's nowt to go agen me bein' happy," he said, a little grimly. "Not yet, as I know on. I don't let things go agen me easy." About half an hour later, he stood in the road before his partner's house. The night was warm, and the windows of the drawing-room were thrown open. He stood and looked up at them for a minute and then spoke aloud. "Aye," he said, "he's there, by George!" He could see inside plainly, and the things he saw best were Rachel Ffrench and Murdoch. Ffrench himself sat in a large chair, reading. Miss Ffrench stood upon the hearth. She rested an arm upon the low mantel, and talked to Murdoch, who stood opposite to her. The man who watched uttered an oath at the sight of her. "Him!" he said. "Him--damn him!" and grew hot and cold by turns. He kept his stand for full ten minutes, and then crossed the road. The servant who answered his summons at the door regarded him with amazement. "I know they're in," he said, making his way past him. "I saw 'em through the window." Those in the drawing-room heard his heavy feet as he mounted the staircase. It is possible that each recognized the sound. Ffrench rose hurriedly, and, it must be owned, with some slight trepidation. Rachel merely turned her face toward the door. She did not change her position otherwise at all. Murdoch did not move. "My dear fellow," said Ffrench, with misplaced enthusiasm. "I am glad to see you." But Haworth passed him over with a nod. His eyes were fixed on Murdoch. He gave him a nod also and spoke to him. "What, you're here, are you?" he said. "That's a good thing." "We think so," said Mr. Ffrench, with fresh fervor. "My dear fellow, sit down." He took the chair offered him, but still looked at Murdoch and spoke to him. "I've been to Briarley's," he said. "I've had a talk with that little lass of his. She gave me the notion you'd be here. She's a sharp little un, by George!"