“Let me tell you, Adam,” said Arthur, bridling his growing anger and trying to recur to his careless tone, “you’re not only devilishly impertinent, but you’re talking nonsense.  Every pretty girl is not such a fool as you, to suppose that when a gentleman admires her beauty and pays her a little attention, he must mean something particular.  Every man likes to flirt with a pretty girl, and every pretty girl likes to be flirted with.  The wider the distance between them, the less harm there is, for then she’s not likely to deceive herself.”

“I don’t know what you mean by flirting,” said Adam, “but if you mean behaving to a woman as if you loved her, and yet not loving her all the while, I say that’s not th’ action of an honest man, and what isn’t honest does come t’ harm.  I’m not a fool, and you’re not a fool, and you know better than what you’re saying.  You know it couldn’t be made public as you’ve behaved to Hetty as y’ have done without her losing her character and bringing shame and trouble on her and her relations.  What if you meant nothing by your kissing and your presents?  Other folks won’t believe as you’ve meant nothing; and don’t tell me about her not deceiving herself.  I tell you as you’ve filled her mind so with the thought of you as it’ll mayhap poison her life, and she’ll never love another man as ’ud make her a good husband.”

Arthur had felt a sudden relief while Adam was speaking; he perceived that Adam had no positive knowledge of the past, and that there was no irrevocable damage done by this evening’s unfortunate rencontre.  Adam could still be deceived.  The candid Arthur had brought himself into a position in which successful lying was his only hope.  The hope allayed his anger a little.

“Well, Adam,” he said, in a tone of friendly concession, “you’re perhaps right.  Perhaps I’ve gone a little too far in taking notice of the pretty little thing and stealing a kiss now and then.  You’re such a grave, steady fellow, you don’t understand the temptation to such trifling.  I’m sure I wouldn’t bring any trouble or annoyance on her and the good Poysers on any account if I could help it.  But I think you look a little too seriously at it.  You know I’m going away immediately, so I shan’t make any more mistakes of the kind.  But let us say good-night”—­Arthur here turned round to walk on—­“and talk no more about the matter.  The whole thing will soon be forgotten.”

“No, by God!” Adam burst out with rage that could be controlled no longer, throwing down the basket of tools and striding forward till he was right in front of Arthur.  All his jealousy and sense of personal injury, which he had been hitherto trying to keep under, had leaped up and mastered him.  What man of us, in the first moments of a sharp agony, could ever feel that the fellow-man who has been the medium of inflicting it did not mean to hurt us?  In our instinctive rebellion against pain, we are children again, and demand an active will to wreak