Perhaps the tart answer had spurred him to greater endeavour. He was extremely sensitive under a skin toughened by paternal thwackings, and well aware that his mother-in-law was inclined to sniff whenever his name was mentioned. The poor old dear was a bit jealous! She had fallen in the social scale; he was rising, soaring into the blue, like the great spire of Melchester Cathedral. During the past seven years he had hugged close his intention of leaving Melchester for the wider sphere of London. The fact that Tomlin, Susan, and Mrs. Biddlecombe were obstinately opposed to such a leap into the unknown merely fortified his resolution. Tomlin, of course, nosed a rival, for some of his customers knew Quinney. Susan hinted that Posy would lose her bloom in London streets. Mrs. Biddlecombe pointed out, with businesslike acumen, that he and his father had built up a big and increasing country connection which would be greedily snapped up by some Melchester dealer. And, lastly, the mighty Marquess of Mel had uttered a word of warning: "It would mean a big fight. You are not in the ring, my dear fellow." Whenever his kind patron addressed him as a dear fellow Quinney’s blood warmed within him. And his keen eyes sparkled at the prospect of a fight. He liked fights. As a boy he had fought to a finish other boys bigger than himself; and the victory had not invariably been with them. He remembered his victories, as he answered Lord Mel: "I should get into the ring, my lord." "Um! Would you! And"—his landlord laughed pleasantly—"I should lose a good tenant." "London’s the best market for knowledge," said Quinney. "Quite, quite! Can you attempt to compete with the experts?" The question rankled, biting deep into his soul, inciting him to further study of the things he loved. But such study grew more and more difficult. He had become the expert of Melchester. On and about his own "pitch" it was impossible to find a man with more technical knowledge than his own. In London, he would be rubbing shoulders with world-famous collectors and connoisseurs. They would "down" him at first, rub his nose in the dust of the big auction rooms; but in the end he would learn what they had learned, and triumph where they had triumphed. *III*