"They're all sharp," said Mr. Ffrench. "The precocity one finds in these manufacturing towns is something astonishing--astonishing." He launched at once into a dissertation upon the causes of precocity in a manufacturing town, and became so absorbed in his theme that it mattered very little that Haworth paid no attention to him. He was leaning back in his chair with his hands in his pockets, not moving his eyes from Murdoch. Mr. Ffrench was in the middle of his dissertation when, half an hour afterward, Haworth got up without ceremony. Murdoch was going. "I'll go with you," he said to him. They went out of the room and down the staircase together without speaking. They did not even look at each other. When they were fairly out of the room Mr. Ffrench glanced somewhat uneasily at his daughter. "Really," he said, "he is not always a pleasant fellow to deal with. One is never sure of reaching him." And then, as he received no answer, he returned in some embarrassment to his book. CHAPTER XXIV. AT AN END. When they stood in the road, Haworth laid his hand upon his companion's shoulder heavily. "Come up to the Works, lad," he said, "and let's have a bit of a talk." His voice and his touch had something in common. Murdoch understood them both. There was no need for clearer speech. "Why there?" he asked. "It's quiet there. I've a fancy for it." "I have no fancy against it. As well there as anywhere else." "Aye," said Haworth. "Not only as well, but better." He led the way into his own room and struck a light. He flung his keys upon the table; they struck it with a heavy clang. Then he spoke his first words since they had turned from the gate-way. "Aye," he said, "not only as well, but better. I'm at home here, if I'm out everywhere else. The place knows me and I know it. I'm best man here, by----! if I'm out everywhere else." He sat down at the table and rested his chin upon his hand. His hand shook, and his forehead was clammy. Murdoch threw himself into the chair opposite to him. "Go on," he said. "Say what you have to say." Haworth bent forward a little. "You've got on better than I'd have thought, lad," he said,--"better than I'd have thought." "What!" hoarsely. "Does she treat me as she treats other men?" "Nay," said Haworth, "not as she treats me--by the Lord Harry!" The deadly bitterness which possessed him was terrible; he was livid with it. "I've thought of a good many," he said. "I've looked on at 'em as they stood round her--chaps of her own sort, with money and the rest of it; but I never thought of you--not once." "No," said Murdoch, "I dare say not." "No--not once," the man repeated. "Get up, and let's take a look at you," he said. "Happen I've not had the right notion on you." "Don't say anything you'll repent," said Murdoch. "It's bad enough as it is." But his words were like chaff before the wind.