He grew furiously red, gladness and embarrassment struggling within him. Conscientiously he strove to be faithful to the menagerie of ignorances and prejudices which he misnamed his convictions. For here was the representative of the Accursed Thing--persecutor, enemy of truth, of patriotism, of marriage, worshipper of senseless idols; but, alas! how he loved that representative! How he honoured his intelligence, admired his person, coveted his companionship! Beholding Iglesias once again, George Lovegrove rejoiced as at the finding of lost treasure. Hence, perplexed, perspiring, lamentably squinting, yet with the innocent half-shy ecstasy of a girl looking upon her recovered lover, he gazed up into Mr. Iglesias' face. "I give you my word I was never more taken aback in my life," he protested. "As it happened I was just thinking about old times, observing that some family is moving into your former house. But I had no notion of meeting you. Positively I am unable to grasp the fact. I have not a word to say to you, because I require to say so much. I know there is a great deal which needs explanation on my part. And then your calling me by my name, too! I declare it went right through me, as a voice from the grave might." "Put aside explanations," Iglesias replied indulgently. "You are not going to quarrel with me any more--let that suffice." "No, I cannot quarrel with you any more. I am sure I don't know whether it is unprincipled or not, but I cannot do it." Regardless of observation, he pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his face. "If it is unprincipled I must just let it go." he said, quite recklessly. "I cannot help myself. I give you my word, Dominic, I have held out as long as I could." This appeal to Iglesias, as against himself, appeared to him abundantly unaffected and ingenuous. "I cannot but believe you will find the consequences of renewed intercourse with me less damaging than you suppose," he answered, smiling.