“To a certainty! Mr. Striker, you must know, is not simply a good-natured attorney, who lets me dog’s-ear his law-books. He’s a particular friend and general adviser. He looks after my mother’s property and kindly consents to regard me as part of it. Our opinions have always been painfully divergent, but I freely forgive him his zealous attempts to unscrew my head-piece and set it on hind part before. He never understood me, and it was useless to try to make him. We speak a different language--we ‘re made of a different clay. I had a fit of rage yesterday when I smashed his bust, at the thought of all the bad blood he had stirred up in me; it did me good, and it ‘s all over now. I don’t hate him any more; I ‘m rather sorry for him. See how you ‘ve improved me! I must have seemed to him wilfully, wickedly stupid, and I ‘m sure he only tolerated me on account of his great regard for my mother. This morning I grasped the bull by the horns. I took an armful of law-books that have been gathering the dust in my room for the last year and a half, and presented myself at the office. ‘Allow me to put these back in their places,’ I said. ‘I shall never have need for them more--never more, never more, never more!’ ‘So you ‘ve learned everything they contain?’ asked Striker, leering over his spectacles. ‘Better late than never.’ ‘I ‘ve learned nothing that you can teach me,’ I cried. ‘But I shall tax your patience no longer. I ‘m going to be a sculptor. I ‘m going to Rome. I won’t bid you good-by just yet; I shall see you again. But I bid good-by here, with rapture, to these four detested walls--to this living tomb! I did n’t know till now how I hated it! My compliments to Mr. Spooner, and my thanks for all you have not made of me!’” “I ‘m glad to know you are to see Mr. Striker again,” Rowland answered, correcting a primary inclination to smile. “You certainly owe him a respectful farewell, even if he has not understood you. I confess you rather puzzle me. There is another person,” he presently added, “whose opinion as to your new career I should like to know. What does Miss Garland think?” Hudson looked at him keenly, with a slight blush. Then, with a conscious smile, “What makes you suppose she thinks anything?” he asked. “Because, though I saw her but for a moment yesterday, she struck me as a very intelligent person, and I am sure she has opinions.” The smile on Roderick’s mobile face passed rapidly into a frown. “Oh, she thinks what I think!” he answered.