On Tuesday night he repeated his visit, bringing half a pound of very strong American in his pocket. He heard a shocking story. Thyrza had again been to the library, and so secretly that but for her station at the key-hole Mrs. Butterfield would have known nothing of it. 'Well, well, now! Tut--tut--tut!' commented portly Mr. Bower. 'To think! You never _can_ trust these young men as have more money than they know what to do with! But I didn't think it of Egremont. That's the kind of fellow as comes to preach to the working man and tell him of his faults! Bah! Well, I'm not one for going about spreading storie. Grail must take his chance. Perhaps it 'ud be as well, Mrs. Butterfield, if _you_ kept this little affair quiet--just between you and me, you know. There's no knowing.--Eh? A time may come.--Eh? It's none of our business _just now_.--Eh? You understand, Mrs. Butterfield? It might be as well to keep an eye open to the end of the week.' Mr. Bower, on the way home, turned into his club, just to drink a glass of whisky at the club price. In the reading-room were a few men occupied with newspapers or in chat. In a corner, reading his favourite organ of 'free thought,' sat Luke Ackroyd. Bower got his glass of spirits, brought it into the reading-room, and sat down by Ackroyd. 'So our friend Egremont's begun to get his books together,' he began. 'Has he?' Luke was indifferent. Of late he had entered upon a new phase of his mental trouble. He was averse from conversation, shrank from his old companions, seemed to have resumed studious habits. It had got about that he was going to marry Totty Nancarrow, but he refused to answer questions on the subject. Banter he met with so grim a countenance that the facetious soon left him to himself. He no longer drank, that was evident. But his face was pale, thin, and unwholesome. One would have said that just now he was more seriously unhappy than he had been throughout his boisterous period. Bower, after one or two glances at him, lowered his voice to say: 'I can't think it's altogether the right thing for Thyrza Trent to be there every morning helping him. Of course you and me know as it's all square, but other people might--eh? Grail ought to think of that--eh?'