During the absence of the women, James Ollerenshaw contradicted himself to Emanuel for the sweet sake of Emanuel's stepmother. Little by little they descended to the earth, with continual detours and halts by Helen, who was several times lost and found. "I've told him," said James, quietly and proudly. "I've told him it's no use to you unless you want to turn it into a building estate." They separated into two couples at the gate, with elaborate formalities on the part of Emanuel, which Uncle James more or less tried to imitate. "Well?" murmured James, sighing relief, as they waited for the electric tram in that umbrageous and aristocratic portion of the Oldcastle-road which lies nearest to the portals of Wilbraham Hall. He was very pleased with himself, because, at the cost of his own respect, he had pleased Mrs. Prockter. "Well?" murmured Helen, in response, tapping on the edge of the pavement the very same sunshade in whose company James had first made her acquaintance. She seemed nervous, hesitating, apprehensive. "What about that house as ye've so kindly chosen for me?" he asked, genially. He wanted to humour her. She looked him straight in the eyes. "You've seen it," said she. "What!" he snorted. "When han I seen it?" "Just now," she replied. "It's Wilbraham Hall. I knew that Mrs. Prockter wouldn't have it. And, besides, I've made Emanuel give up all idea of it." He laughed, but with a strange and awful sensation in his stomach. "A poor joke, lass!" he observed, with the laugh dead in his throat. "It isn't a poor joke," said she. "It isn't a joke at all." "Didst thou seriously think as I should buy that there barracks to please thee?" "Certainly," she said, courageously. "Just that--to please me." "I'm right enough where I am," he asserted, grimly. "What for should I buy Wilbraham Hall? What should I do in it?" "Live in it." "Trafalgar-road's good enough for me." "But it isn't good enough for me," said she. "I wouldna' ha' minded," he said, savagely--"I wouldna' ha' minded going into a house a bit bigger, but--" "Nothing is big enough for me except Wilbraham Hall," she said. He said nothing. He was furious. It was her birthday, and he had given her six-and-twenty pounds--ten shillings a week for a year--and she had barely kissed him. And now, instantly after that amazing and mad generosity, she had the face to look cross because he would not buy Wilbraham Hall! It was inconceivable; it was unutterable. So he said nothing.