"Oh, well, come inside, and I'll get it for you directly. But it isn't neighbourly when I wanted to ask you about fifty pounds I wish to put away." He followed her quickly into the parlour occupied by the manager, and then glanced sharply round. "Have you consulted him--Mr Hallam?" he said sharply. "No, of course not. I have always taken your advice so far, Mr Thickens. I don't talk about my bit of money to all my friends." "Quite right," he said--"quite right. Fifty pounds, did you say?" "Yes; and I'd better bring it to Dixons', hadn't I?" James Thickens began to work at his smoothly-shaven face, pinching his cheeks with his long white fingers and thumb, and drawing them down to his chin, as if he wished to pare that off to a point--an unnecessary procedure, as it was already very sharp. "I can't do better, can I?" The bank clerk looked sharply round the room again, his eyes lighting on the desk, books, and various ornaments, with which the manager had surrounded himself. "I don't know," he said at last. "But I don't like keeping the money in the house, Mr Thickens. I always wake up about three, and fancy that thieves are breaking in." "Give it to me, then, and I'll put it safely for you somewhere." "In the bank, Mr Thickens?" "I don't know yet," he said. "Give me the book. Thank you. I'll talk to you about the money another time;" and, placing the volume under his arm, he glanced once more sharply round the room, and then went off very thoughtful and strange of aspect--veritably looking, as Mrs Pinet said, as close as the safe up at Dixons' Bank. VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER SIX. SIR GORDON IS TROUBLED WITH DOUBTS. First love is like furze; it is very beautiful and golden, but about and under that rich yellow there are thorns many and sharp. It catches fire, too, quickly, and burns up with a tremendous deal of crackling, and the heat is great but not always lasting. Christie Bayle did not take this simile to heart, but a looker-on might have done so, especially such a looker-on as Robert Hallam, who visited at the doctor's just as of old--before the arrival of the new curate, whose many calls did not seem to trouble him in the least. All the same, though, he was man of the world enough to see the bent of Christie Bayle's thoughts, and how quickly and strongly his love had caught and burned. For treating Gemp's statements as James Thickens suggested, and dividing them by five, the half-quotient was quite sufficiently heavy to show that if the curate did not marry Millicent Luttrell, it would be no fault of his. He was, as his critics said, very young. Twenty-four numbered his years, and his educational capabilities were on a par therewith; but in matters worldly and of the heart twenty would better have represented his age.