“I am sorry to hear it,” Arnold interposed.

“You, of course,” Mr. Jarvis went on, “could scarcely have noticed it, as you have been here so short a time, but I can assure you that a year or so ago the governor was a different person altogether.  He was out in the warehouse half the morning, watching the stuff being unloaded, sampling it, and suggesting customers.  He took a live interest in the business, Chetwode.  He was here, there and everywhere.  To-day—­for the last few weeks, indeed—­he has scarcely left his office.  He sits there, signs a few letters, listens to what I have to say, and goodness knows how he spends the rest of his time.  Where the business would be,” Mr. Jarvis continued, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “if it were not for us who know the running of it so well, I can’t say, but a fact it is that Mr. Weatherley seems to have lost all interest in it.”

“I wonder he doesn’t retire,” Arnold suggested.

Mr. Jarvis looked at him in amazement.

“Retire!” he exclaimed.  “Why should he retire?  What would he do?  Isn’t it as comfortable for him to read his newspaper over the fire in the office here as at home?  Isn’t it better for him to have his friends all around him, as he has here, than to sit up in his drawing-room in business hours with never a soul to speak to?  Such men as Mr. Weatherley, Chetwode, or as Mr. Weatherley’s father was, don’t retire.  If they do, it means the end.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear what you tell me,” Arnold said.  “I haven’t seen much of Mr. Weatherley, of course, but he seems devoted to his wife.”

“Infatuated, sir!  Infatuated is the word!” Mr. Jarvis declared.

“She is very charming,” Arnold remarked, thoughtfully.

Mr. Jarvis looked as though there were many things which he could have said but refrained from saying.

“You will not suggest, Chetwode,” he asked, “that she married Mr. Weatherley for any other reason than because he was a rich man?”

Arnold was silent for a moment.  Somehow or other, he had accepted the fact of her being Mrs. Weatherley without thinking much as to its significance.

“I suppose,” he admitted, “that Mr. Weatherley’s money was an inducement.”

“There is never anything but evil,” Mr. Jarvis declared, “comes from a man or a woman marrying out of their own circle of friends.  Now Mr. Weatherley might have married a dozen ladies from his own circle here.  One I know of, a very handsome lady, too, whose father has been Lord Mayor.  And then there’s young Tidey’s sisters, in the office there.  Any one of them would have been most suitable.  But no!  Some unlucky chance seems to have sent Mr. Weatherley on that continental journey, and when you once get away from England, why, of course, anything may happen.  I don’t wish to say anything against Mrs. Weatherley, mind,” Mr. Jarvis continued, “but she comes from the wrong class of people to make a city man a good wife, and I can’t help associating her and her friends and her manner of living with the change that’s come over Mr. Weatherley.”