Sidney remained standing by the fireplace, turned so that his face was in shadow. ‘Worry? Oh, I don’t know,’ he replied, idly. ‘Well, _I’m_ worried a good deal, Sidney, and that’s the fact.’ ‘What about?’ ‘All sorts of things. I’ve meant to have a long talk with you; but then I don’t quite know how to begin. Well, see, it’s chiefly about Jane.’ Sidney neither moved nor spoke. ‘After all, Sidney,’ resumed the other, softening his voice, ‘I _am_ her father, you see. A precious bad one I’ve been, that there’s no denying, and dash it if I don’t sometimes feel ashamed of myself. I do when she speaks to me in that pleasant way she has—you know what I mean. For all that, I am her father, and I think it’s only right I should do my best to make her happy. You agree with that, I know.’ ‘Certainly I do.’ ‘You won’t take it ill if I ask whether—in fact, whether you’ve ever asked her—you know what I mean.’ ‘I have not,’ Sidney replied, in a clear, unmoved tone, changing his position at the same time so as to look his interlocutor in the face. Joseph seemed relieved. ‘Still,’ he continued, ‘you’ve given her to understand—eh? I suppose there’s no secret about that?’ ‘I’ve often spoken to her very intimately, but I have used no words such as you are thinking of. It’s quite true that my way of behaving has meant more than ordinary friendship.’ ‘Yes, yes; you’re not offended at me bringing this subject up, old man? You see, I’m her father, after all, and I think we ought to understand each other.’ ‘You are quite right.’ ‘Well, now, see.’ He fidgeted a little. ‘Has my father ever told you that his friend the lawyer, Percival, altogether went against that way of bringing-up Jane?’ ‘Yes, I know that.’ ‘You do?’ Joseph paused before proceeding. ‘To tell you the truth, I don’t much care about Percival. I had a talk with him, you know, when my business was being settled. No, I don’t quite take to him, so to say. Now, you won’t be offended? The fact of the matter is, he asked some rather queer questions about you—or, at all events, if they weren’t exactly questions, they—they came to the same thing.’ Sidney was beginning to glare under his brows. Commonsense told him how very unlikely it was that a respectable solicitor should compromise himself in talk with a stranger, and that such a man as J. J. Snowdon; yet, whether the story were true or not, it meant that Joseph was plotting in some vile way, and thus confirmed his suspicions. He inquired, briefly and indifferently, what Mr. Percival’s insinuations had been. ‘Well, I told you I don’t much care for the fellow. He didn’t say as much, mind, but he seemed to be hinting-like that, as Jane’s father, I should do well to—to keep an eye on you—ha, ha! It came to that, I thought—though, of course, I may have been mistaken. It shows how little he knows about you and father. I fancy he’d got it into his head that it was _you_ set father on those plans about Jane—though _why_ I’d like to know.’