One thing must be told of Mr. Grey which was very much to his discredit, and which, if generally known, would have caused his clients to think him to be unfit to be the recipient of their family secrets;—­he told all the secrets to Dolly.  He was a man who could not possibly be induced to leave his business behind him at his office.  It made the chief subject of conversation when he was at home.  He would even call Dolly into his bedroom late at night, bringing her out of bed for the occasion, to discuss with her some point of legal strategy,—­of legal but still honest strategy,—­which had just occurred to him.  Maybe he had not quite seen his way as to the honesty, and wanted Dolly’s opinion on the subject.  Dolly would come in in her dressing-gown, and, sitting on his bed, would discuss the matter with him as advocate against the devil.  Sometimes she would be convinced; more frequently she would hold her own.  But the points which were discussed in that way, and the strength of argumentation which was used on either side, would have surprised the clients, and the partner, and the clerks, and the eloquent barrister who was occasionally employed to support this side or the other.  The eloquent barrister, or it might be the client himself, startled sometimes at the amount of enthusiasm which Mr. Grey would throw into his argument, would little dream that the very words had come from the young lady in her dressing-gown.  To tell the truth, Miss Grey thoroughly liked these discussions, whether held on the lawn, or in the dining-room arm-chairs, or during the silent hours of the night.  They formed, indeed, the very salt of her life.  She felt herself to be the Conscience of the firm.  Her father was the Reason.  And the partner, in her own phraseology, was the—­Devil.  For it must be understood that Dolly Grey had a spice of fun about her, of which her father had the full advantage.  She would not have called her father’s partner the “Devil” to any other ear but her father’s.  And that her father knew, understanding also the spirit in which the sobriquet had been applied.  He did not think that his partner was worse than another man, nor did he think that his daughter so thought.  The partner, whose name was Barry, was a man of average honesty, who would occasionally be surprised at the searching justness with which Mr. Grey would look into a matter after it had been already debated for a day or two in the office.  But Mr. Barry, though he had the pleasure of Miss Grey’s acquaintance, had no idea of the nature of the duties which she performed in the firm.

“I’m nearly broken-hearted about this abominable business,” said Mr. Grey, as he went upstairs to his dressing room.  The normal hour for dinner was half-past six.  He had arrived on this occasion at half-past seven, and had paid a shilling extra to the cabman to drive him quick.  The man, having a lame horse, had come very slowly, fidgeting Mr. Grey into additional temporary discomfort.  He had got his additional shilling, and Mr. Grey had only additional discomfort.  “I declare I think he is the wickedest old man the world ever produced.”  This he said as Dolly followed him upstairs; but Dolly, wiser than her father, would say nothing about the wicked old man in the servants’ hearing.