‘I am not very well to-day,’ said the banker, hardly looking round, persevering in his effort to get into the vehicle.

’I would not keep you for a minute, sir.  I must see you, as you are aware.’

There were already half-a-dozen people collected, all of whom had no doubt heard the story of John Caldigate’s wife.  There was, indeed, no man or woman in Cambridge whose ears it had not reached.  In the hearing of these Mr. Bolton was determined not to speak of his daughter, and he was equally determined not to go back into the house.  ’I have nothing to say,’ he muttered—­’nothing, nothing; drive on.’  So the cab was driven on, and John Caldigate was left in the street.

The man’s anger now produced a fixed purpose, and with a quick step he walked away from the bank to Robert Bolton’s office.  There he soon found himself in the attorney’s room.  ’Are you aware of what they are doing at the Grange?’ he asked, in a voice which was not so guarded as it should have been on such an occasion.  Anger and the quickness of his walk had combined to make him short of breath, and he asked the question with that flurried, hasty manner which is common to angry people who are hot rather than malicious in their angers.

‘I don’t think I am,’ said the attorney.  ’But if I were, I doubt whether I should just at present be willing to discuss their doings with you.’

‘My wife has gone there on a visit.’

‘I am glad to hear it.  It is the best thing that my sister could do.’

‘And now it seems some difficulty is made about her returning.’

That I think very likely.  Her father and mother can hardly wish that she should go back to your house at present.  I cannot imagine that she should wish it herself.  If you have the feelings of a gentleman or the heart of a man you ought not to wish it.’

’I have not come here to be taught what is becoming either to a man or a gentleman.’

’If you will allow me to say so, while things are as they are at present, you ought not to come here at all.’

’I should not have done so but for this violence, this breach of all hospitality at your father’s house!  My wife went there with the understanding that she was to stay for two days.’

’And now, you say, they detain her.  I am not responsible; but in doing so they have my thorough sympathy and approbation.  I do not know that I can help them, or that they will want my help; but I shall help them if I can.  The fact is, you had better leave her there.’

‘Never!’

’I should not have volunteered my advice, but, as you are here, I may perhaps say a word.  If you attempt to take her by violence from her father’s house you will have all the town, all the county, all England against you.’

’I should;—­I own it;——­unless she wished to come to me.  If she chooses to stay, she shall stay.’