But wrath and fury raged in the breast of Laura Pocklington. She thought George had made a fool of her. He had persuaded her to come over to his side, and had then betrayed the colours. There would be joy in Gath and Askelon; or, in other words, Isabel Bourne and Maud Neston would crow over her insupportably. "I will never see him or speak to him again, mamma," Laura declared, passionately. "He has behaved abominably!" This announcement rather took the wind out of Mrs. Pocklington's sails. She was just preparing to bear majestically down upon her daughter with a stern _ultimatum_ to the effect that, for the present, George must be kept at a distance, and daughters must be guided by their mothers. At certain moments nothing is more annoying than to meet with agreement, when one intends to extort submission. "Good gracious, Laura!" said Mrs. Pocklington, "you can't care much for the man." "Care for him! I detest him!" "My dear, it hardly looked like it." "You must allow me some self-respect, mamma." Mr. Pocklington, entering, overheard these words. "Hallo!" said he. "What's the matter?" "Why, my dear, Laura declares that she will have nothing to say to George Neston." "Well, that's just your own view, isn't it?" A silence ensued. "It seems to me you are agreed." It really did look like it; but they had been on the verge of a pretty quarrel all the same: and Mr. Pocklington was confirmed in the opinion he had lately begun to entertain that, when paradoxes of mental process are in question, there is in truth not much to choose between wives and daughters. Meanwhile, George Neston was steadily and unflinchingly devouring his humble-pie. He sought and obtained Gerald's forgiveness, after half an hour of grovelling abasement. He listened to Tommy Myles's grave rebuke and Sidmouth Vane's cynical raillery without a smile or a tear. He even brought himself to accept with docility a letter full of Christian feeling which Isabel Bourne was moved to write. All these things, in fact, affected him little in comparison with the great question of his relations with the Pocklingtons. That, he felt, must be settled at once, and, with his white sheet yet round him and his taper still in his hand, he went to call on Mrs. Pocklington.