Andy lingered for a little while alone with Belfield, to thank him again, to make some arrangements for the future, to tell him that he had seen Harry, and that Harry was well and in good spirits.
"You saw him on Thursday? After you got my wire? Did you say anything about it?"
"It came while he was there, and I showed it to him. He was surprised."
"You mean he wasn't pleased?"
"I can understand how he must feel. I feel just the same thing myself—terribly strongly sometimes."
Belfield pressed his arm. "You mustn't give way to that feeling. It's loyal, but it's not reasonable. Never let that weigh with you in anything."
The feeling might not be reasonable; it seemed to Andy inevitable. It must weigh with him. Yet it could not outweigh his natural and legitimate satisfaction that day. His mind reached forth to the new work, fortified by the confidence that his friends gave him. The thought of Harry seemed now rather a sobering reminder that this thing had come to him, in part at least, by accident. He was the more bound to do well with it, that the evil effects of the accident might be minimized.
He made for Jack Rock's house in High Street, where he was to lodge. Jack had just got off his horse at the door, and was standing facing his shop, apparently regarding his sign. Andy came up and clapped him on the back.
"I know what you've been doing," he said. "At it again, Jack!"
"You've not refused?"