Of all men living, none were less suited than Onslow for assuming any part, or taking any decisive line, which could possibly be avoided, or even postponed. He hated, besides, to do an ungracious thing anywhere, or to any one. It might be, thought he, that Norwood's scrape could all be explained away. Perhaps, after all, the thing is a mere trifle; and if he were to take the decided line of cutting a man without due cause, the consequences might be most injurious. These, and fifty such-like scruples, warred within him, and so engaged his attention that he actually heard not one word of all that “town gossip” which Norwood was retailing for his amusement. At last, while following out his own thoughts, George came to the resolution of finding out at once the precise position in which Norwood stood, and to this end asked the last news from Newmarket. Norwood's coolness never forsook him at a question whose very suddenness was somewhat awkward. “Bad enough,” said he, with an easy laugh. “We have all of us been 'hit hard.' Knolesby has lost heavily. Burchester, too, has had a smasher; and I myself have not escaped. In fact, George, the 'Legs' have had it all their own way. I suppose you heard something about it out here?” “Why, yes; there were reports--” “Oh, hang reports, man! Never trust to old women's tales. And that confounded fellow, Haggerstone, I 'm certain, has been spreading all kinds of stories. But the facts are simple enough.” “I 'm heartily glad you say so; for, to tell you the truth, Norwood, my father is one of the prejudiced about this affair, and I 'm dying to be able to give him a full explanation of the whole.”