"Nothing at all," said Bertram, very curtly. "Ah, I wish I could. I should be so happy to rearrange matters if it be at all possible." There are some men who are so specially good at rearranging the domestic disarrangements of others. "It is an affair," said Bertram, "which admits of no interference. Perhaps it is unnecessary that I should have troubled you on the matter at all, for I know that you are very busy; but--" "My dear fellow--busy, indeed! What business could be more important to me than my friend's happiness?" "But," continued George, "as the affair had been talked over so often between you and me, I thought it right to tell you." "Of course--of course; and so nothing can be done. Ah, well! it is very sad, very. But I suppose you know best. She is a charming girl. Perhaps, rather--" "Harcourt, I had rather not hear a word spoken about her in any way; but certainly not a word in her dispraise." "Dispraise! no, certainly not. It would be much easier to praise her. I always admired her very much; very much indeed." "Well, there's an end of it." "So be it. But I am sorry, very sorry; heartily sorry. You are a little rough now, Bertram. Of course I see that you are so. Every touch goes against the hair with you; every little blow hits you on the raw. I can understand that; and therefore I do not mind your roughness. But we are old friends, you know. Each is perhaps the other's oldest friend; and I don't mean to lose such a friend because you have a shade of the misanthrope on you just now. You'll throw the bile off in another essay, rather more bitter than the last, and then you'll be all right." "I'm right enough now, thank you. Only a man can't always be in high spirits. At least, some men cannot." "Well, God bless you, old fellow! I know you want me gone; so I'll go now. But never talk to me about my business. I do get through a good deal of business, but it shall never stand between you and me." And so the cunning legal man went his way. And then there remained the journey to Hadley. After that it was his purpose to go abroad again, to go to Paris, and live in dingy lodgings there _au cinquieme_, to read French free-thinking books, to study the wild side of politics, to learn if he could, among French theatres and French morals, French freedom of action, and freedom of speech, and freedom of thought--France was a blessed country for freedom in those days, under the paternal monarchy of that paternal monarch, Louis Philippe--to learn to forget, among these sources of inspiration, all that he had known of the sweets of English life. But there remained the journey to Hadley. It had always been his custom to go to Mr. Pritchett in the city before he went to his uncle's house, and he did so now. Everybody who wished to see Mr. Bertram always went to Mr. Pritchett first, and Mr. Pritchett would usually send some _avant-courier_ to warn his patron of the invasion.