He had held out his hand with some wavering and doubt, though with enthusiasm. But gradually a curious expression of wonder came to his face; his hand dropped at his side. Paul made no motion towards taking it; the demagogue thought it was resentment. A flush of vivid colour came over him. “Come, this is a little too much for old friends,” he said, getting up hastily from his chair, with a thrill of wounded feeling in his voice. “Don’t wrong him, Spears,” said Fairfax. “He has had a great deal to bother him, and his foot is bad. You can meet another time and settle that. At present, let us get him out of this place. If he is angry, he has a right to be; but never mind that now. Let us get him out of here.” Spears did not say another word. He stalked away into the house to which this room belonged, and the “hall” beyond it. It was a little tavern of the lower class in which he was living. By and by the woman came to say there was a cab at the door. And Paul limped out, leaning on Fairfax. All was quiet outside, the meeting dispersed; only one or two men sitting in the room down stairs, who cast a curious look upon the two young men, but took no further notice. As for Spears, he did not appear at all. He was lurking behind, his heart wrung with various feelings, but too much wounded, too much disappointed, too sore and sad to show himself. If Paul had seemed to require help, the rejected prophet was lingering in the hope of offering it; but nothing of the kind seemed the case. He limped out holding Fairfax’s arm. He did not even look round him as the other did, or show any signs of a wish to see his former friend. Spears had not got through the world up to this time without mortification; but he had never suffered so acutely as now. “Poor Spears,” Fairfax contrived to say, as they jolted along, leaving the mean and monotonous streets behind them. “I think you might have taken his hand.” “Pshaw!’ said Paul, “I am tired to death of all that. I don’t mean to say he is not honest--far more honest than most of them--but what is the meaning of all that clap-trap? Why, Spears ought to know as well as any man what folly it is. Bosh!” said the young man with an expression of disgust. The milder spectator beside him looked at him with unfeigned surprise. “I thought you went as far as he did, Markham. I thought you were out and out in your principles, accepting no compromise: I thought----” “You thought I was a fool,” said Paul, bitterly, “and you were right enough, if that is any satisfaction to you; but I had a lesson or two before my poor father’s death--and more since. Don’t let us speak of it. When a man has made an ass of himself, it is no pleasure to him to dwell upon it. And I am not free yet, and I don’t know when I shall be,” he cried, with an irrepressible desire for sympathy, then closed his mouth as if he had shut a book, and said no more.