“Well, perhaps, if you get the rest of her, Mr. Rock, you may leave the heart to the other, for that organ is not of very much practical use by itself, is it? Might I ask who the other is?” Samuel shook his head gloomily, and answered: “It’s all very well for you to joke about hearts, sir, as haven’t got one—I mean, as don’t take no interest in them; but they’re everything to me—at least Joan’s is. And as for who it is, sir, if half I hear is true, it’s that Captain, I mean Sir Henry Graves. You warned me against him, you remember, and you spoke strong because I grew angry. Well, sir, I did right to be angry, for it’s him she loves, Mr. Levinger, and that’s why she hates me. They’re talking about them all over Bradmouth.” “Indeed. Well, Bradmouth always was a great place for scandal, and I should not pay much attention to their tongues, were I you, Mr. Rock. Girls will have their fancies, you know, and I do not think it is necessary to hunt round for explanations because this one happens to flout you. I dare say it will all come right in time, if you have a little patience. Anyway there will be no more gossip about Joan Haste and Sir Henry Graves, for he has gone home, where he will find plenty of other things to occupy him, poor fellow. And now I have a plan of the shed here: perhaps you can explain it to me.” Samuel expounded his plan and went away, this time without the offer of any port wine, for it seemed to his host that he was already quite sufficiently excited. When he had gone, Mr. Levinger rose from his chair and began to limp up and down the room, as was his custom when thinking deeply. To Samuel he had made light of the talk about Sir Henry Graves and Joan Haste, but he knew well that this was no light matter. He had been kept informed of the progress of their intimacy by his paid spy, Mrs. Gillingwater, but at the time he could find no pretext that would enable him to interfere without exposing himself to the risk of questions, which he preferred should be left unasked. On the previous day only, Mrs. Gillingwater had come to see him, and given him her version of the rumours which were flying about as to the scene that occurred at the death-bed of Sir Reginald. Discount these rumours as he would, he could not doubt but that they had a basis in fact. That Henry had declined to bind himself to marry his daughter Emma was clear; and it seemed probable that this refusal, made in so solemn an hour, had something to do with the girl Joan. And now, on the top of it, came Samuel Rock with the story of his angry and ignominious rejection by this same Joan, a rejection that he unhesitatingly attributed to her intimacy or intrigue with Henry Graves. The upshot of these reflections was the message received by Joan summoning her to Monk’s Lodge.