How Tom at that moment constrained himself, and withheld the words that leapt to his lips, he could never tell.
“For your sake then, Dorothy,” was all he said.
She placed her hand within his arm, and in a silence that neither cared to break, they turned by mutual impulse to descend the hill homewards.
CHAPTER XIV.
Tom Pinder lost no time in waiting upon his solicitor and acquainting him with his desire that the proceedings should be stayed even if to stay them meant an ignominious surrender. Mr. Sykes did not conceal his surprise.
“What about the plaintiff’s costs?” he asked. Tom said he had reason to hope these would not be insisted on. “It is yours I’m much concerned about.”
“As to them, make your mind easy. I shall make out an account of my actual disbursements, and you must pay me off by such instalments as you find convenient.”
“But your labour?” protested Tom, “the days of manna are over long ago, and I suppose that if popular opinion were ought to go by lawyers would be the last body of men in the world for whom a special dispensation from the general rule would be made.”
“Ah well! popular opinion is sometimes wrong, let us hope, despite the saying, Vox populi vox Dei.”
“I thought you were a Radical, Mr. Sykes.”