urely he had suffered enough for his
revolt. But May and Ida and Walter had always been the same, obstinate,
self-satisfied, regarding everything he did as necessarily wrong. In the
world of men who thought, Jimmy knew that he, himself, was quickly
gaining a position, and that his wife would also have a position,
through him; but his family gauged position by the standard of the
pass-book, the only book it considered of any permanent importance. The
successful business man was respectable by virtue of his success; it
made little difference whether he had grown rich as a banker, a
merchant, or a member of a County Council committee; but the man who
lived by his brains it regarded with suspicion, as one who made an
income without possessing capital.

Jimmy was in a bitter mood. The little matter of the delayed letter had
brought out that alien streak in him again, and once more he saw the
Griersons as he had seen them in the early days of his return,
unsympathetic, prejudiced, almost smug. He had been striving hard to win
their approval. He had given up Lalage; he had written only things of
which they could approve; he had become engaged to a girl essentially of
their world, and now----

A sharp knock on the door brought him to his feet, and he opened the
latch to find the ragged little girl, who generally acted as telegraph
boy, holding out a yellow envelope. "Any answer, sir?" she chanted.

Jimmy read the message through. It was from Canon Farlow, and had been
despatched at the London terminus. "Meet me on the station at
twelve-thirty. Most important," it said.

Jimmy crushed the paper up, and thrust it into his pocket. "No answer,
thanks," he said, then he glanced at the clock. He had an hour and a
half still to wait. For a moment he thought of going up to Drylands
first, to see if Vera too had heard, but he put the idea aside
immediately after. Already, he had scented trouble. There must be
something very serious to have brought the Canon back from Switzerland
in such a hurry, and he preferred to see it through alone, to keep Vera
out of it, if possible.

He was on the station platform a little early, in fact, he had time for
several drinks in the refreshment-room before the train came in; then,
rather to his surprise, he found the Drylands' chauffeur also waiting at
the barrier.

The Canon, a portly man, clean shaven, and obviously prosperous, emerged
from a first-class carriage with a bag in one hand and a ru