Next morning, because he had nothing to do, and because he was already tired of sight-seeing, he made his way again into St. James's Park, and found a seat near the lake and in the shadow of the trees. He told himself that he came there in the hope that he might see Dorothy Hamblyn again. He knew it was a foolish thing to do. But he had come to the unheroic conclusion during the night that it was of no use fighting against Fate. He loved Dorothy Hamblyn passionately, madly, and that was the end of it. He could not help it. He had tried his best to root out the foolish infatuation, and he had almost hoped that he was succeeding. But yesterday's experience had torn the veil from his eyes, and revealed to him the fact that he was more hopelessly in love than ever. How angry he was with himself he did not know. The folly of it made him ashamed. His presumption filled him with amazement. If anyone else of his own class had done the same thing he would have laughed him to scorn. In truth, he could have kicked himself for his folly. Then, unconsciously, his mood would change, and self-pity would take the place of scorn. He was not to blame. He was the victim of a cruel and cynical Fate. He was being punished for hating her father so intensely. It was the Nemesis of an evil passion. He spent most of the day in the Park, and kept an eager look-out in all directions; but the vision of Dorothy's face did not again gladden his eyes. A hundred times he started, and the warm blood rushed in a torrent to his face, then he would walk slowly on again. On the following morning he met Sir John Liskeard, by appointment, in his chambers in the Temple. "He had been going into the case," he explained to Ralph, "with considerable care, but even now he had not found out all he wanted to know. He had, however, discovered one or two facts which had an important bearing on the case." He was careful to explain, again, that in equity he considered Ralph's claim incontestable, while nothing could be more honourable than the way in which he had tried to come to terms with the company. He spoke strongly of the high-handed and tyrannous way in which a rich and powerful company were trying to crush a poor man and rob him of the fruits of his skill and enterprise. But, on the other hand, there was no doubt whatever that the company would be able to cite a clear case. To begin with, the agreement, or the concession, was very loosely worded. Moreover, no time limit had been set, which might imply that the company retained the right of withdrawing the concession at any moment. It was also contended by some of the shareholders that the company, as a whole, could not be held responsible for mistakes made by the chairman. That, however, he held was a silly contention, inasmuch as the agreement was stamped with the company's seal, and was signed by the secretary and two directors.