Mr. Aked made an uncertain dart after him, but he vanished through the doorway, only to encounter Mr. Smythe. With a rather servile "'d afternoon, sir," to the latter, Mr. Aked walked rapidly out of the office.
"What the devil are you all up to?" Mr. Smythe inquired crossly. "Is Aked after money, Larch?"
"Not at all, Mr. Smythe. He only called to see me."
"You are a friend of his, are you?"
"Well, I know him."
"H'm! Jenkins, come and take a letter."
As Richard hurried down into the court, he felt exceedingly angry with Mr. Aked. Why could not the man be more dignified? Everyone seemed to treat him with contempt, and the cause was not altogether obscure. He had no dignity. Richard felt personally aggrieved.
Neither of them spoke of the recent incident as they walked down to the Temple station. Mr. Aked, indeed, said nothing; a fit of coughing occupied him. Somehow Richard's faith in "The Psychology of the Suburbs" had lessened a little during the last half-hour.