Their converse, as they descended into the town, was not effective.  It was, indeed, feeble.  They had fought a brief but bitter duel, and James Ollerenshaw had been severely wounded.  His dignity bled freely; he made, strange to say, scarcely any attempt to staunch the blood, which might have continued to flow for a considerable time had not a diversion occurred. (It is well known that the dignity will only bleed while you watch it.  Avert your eyes, and it instantly dries up.) The diversion, apparently of a trifling character, had, in truth, an enormous importance, though the parties concerned did not perceive this till later.  It consisted in the passing of Mrs. Prockter and her stepson, Emanuel Prockter, up Duck Bank as James and Helen were passing down Duck Bank.

Mrs. Prockter (who by reason of the rare “k” in her name regarded herself as the sole genuine in a district full of Proctors) may be described as the dowager of Bursley, the custodian of its respectability, and the summit of its social ladder.  You could not climb higher than Mrs. Prockter.  She lived at Hillport, and even in that haughty suburb there was none who dared palter with an invitation from Mrs. Prockter.  She was stout and deliberate.  She had waving flowers in her bonnet and pictures of flowers on her silken gown, and a grey mantle.  Much of her figure preceded her as she walked.  Her stepson had a tenor voice and a good tailor; his age was thirty.

Now, Mrs. Prockter was simply nothing to James Ollerenshaw.  They knew each other by sight, but their orbits did not touch.  James would have gone by Mrs. Prockter as indifferently as he would have gone by a policeman or a lamp-post.  As for Emanuel, James held him in mild, benignant contempt.  But when, as the two pairs approached one another, James perceived Emanuel furtively shifting his gold-headed cane from his right hand to his left, and then actually raise his hat to Helen, James swiftly lost his indifference.  He also nearly lost his presence of mind.  He was utterly unaccustomed to such crises.  Despite his wealthy indifference to Mrs. Prockter, despite his distinguished scorn of Emanuel, despite the richness of Helen’s attire, he was astounded, and deeply impressed, to learn that Helen had the acquaintance of people like the Prockters.  Further, except at grave-sides, James Ollerenshaw had never in his life raised his hat.  Hat-raising formed no part of his code of manners.  In his soul he looked upon hat-raising as affected.  He believed that all people who raised hats did so from a snobbish desire to put on airs.  Hat-raising was rather like saying “please,” only worse.

Happily, his was one of those strong, self-reliant natures that can, when there is no alternative, face the most frightful situations with unthumping heart.  He kept his presence of mind, and decided in the fraction of a second what he must do.  The faculty of instant decision is indispensable to safety in these swift-rising crises.