"Yes, I had a son," said Mr. Manners, "who disappointed and disobeyed me."
"Children have no appreciation of the sacrifices parents make for them. I am sorry for you. I should not have spoken of him but for a reference made by the man who has just left us.
"Yes; he spoke of a Mrs. Manners. The name is not a common one, and it may be--" He broke off here. "Mr. Hollingworth, it is not correct for me to say that my son disobeyed me, and you must not suppose that he was guilty of a dishonorable action. He was incapable of it."
"Is he living still?" asked Mr. Hollingworth, laying his hand sympathizingly on his guest's shoulder.
"I do not know. I have heard nothing of him for years. We will not pursue the subject; it is too painful, and I am waited for below. With respect to Mr. Inglefield, your best course will be to see or write to him. There need be no disguise. I myself shall speak to him, and shall mention names plainly."
"I will write to him to-night; he must know at once that his visits here are at an end, unless he has been maligned."
Mr. Manners found Mr. Parkinson waiting for him in the street.
"I could not stop in the house," he said, "there is something about it that suffocates me."
"I intended to ask you to walk with me to mine," said Mr. Manners.
"I will walk with you, but I refuse to enter it," rejoined Mr. Parkinson, roughly. "You are, of course, a rich man."