“What a fine sensibility he has, together with his great intelligence!” was Iris Woolstan’s comment in her own heart.  And she reproached herself for not having stood out against Wrybolt.

As he walked away from the house, Dyce wondered why he had told that lie about the friend at Alverholme.  Would it not have been better, from every point of view, to speak plainly of Connie Bride?  Where was the harm?  He recognised in himself a tortuous tendency, not to be overcome by reflection and moral or utilitarian resolve.  He could not, much as he desired it, be an entirely honest man.  His ideal was honesty, even as he had a strong prejudice in favour of personal cleanliness.  But occasionally he shirked the cold tub; and, in the same way, he found it difficult at times to tell the truth.

CHAPTER IV

In the morning he had a letter from Mrs. Woolstan.  Opening it hurriedly, he was pleased, but not surprised, to discover a cheque folded in the note-paper.  Iris wrote that, as a matter of course, she wished to pay what was owing to him in respect of his tutorial engagement so abruptly brought to an end.  “Even between friends, one must be businesslike.  You ought to have received a quarter’s notice, and, as it is now nearly the end of April, you must allow me to reckon my debt as up to the quarterday in September.  If you say a word about it, I shall be angry, So no nonsense, please!”

The phrase underlined was a quotation from Dyce himself, who often used it, in serio-joking tone, when he had occasion to reprove Mrs. Woolstan for some act or word which jarred with his system.  He was glad to have the cheque, and knew quite well that he should keep it, but a certain uneasiness hung about his mind all the morning.  Dyce had his ideal of manly independence; it annoyed him that circumstances made the noble line of conduct so difficult.  He believed himself strong, virile, yet so often it happened that he was constrained to act in what seemed rather a feeble and undignified way.  But, after all, it was temporary; the day of his emancipation from paltry necessities would surely come, and all the great qualities latent in him would have ample scope.

Plainly, he must do something.  He could live for the next few months, but, after that, had no resources to count upon.  Such hopes as he had tried to connect with the name of Lady Ogram might be the veriest dream, but for the moment no suggestion offered in any other quarter.  It would be better, perhaps, to write to Connie Bride before going down to Hollingford.  Yes, he would write to Connie.