Ned said little, and the interview was extraordinary. It did not take long, yet sent Kellock reeling out into the night bewildered, shocked, with the whole scheme of his future existence threatened, and no immediate possibility to retrieve the position.
“You’ve come, then,” began Mr. Dingle. “Well, a good bit has happened since I saw you last, and, things being what they are here, it looks rather as if I might return to the Mill.”
“I hadn’t heard nothing of that,” answered Jordan.
“You needn’t mention it; but Mr. Trenchard is quite willing if I see no objection—so Ernest Trood tells me—and I imagine you’d have nothing to say against it.”
“As to that, your plans are not my business. Of course, that might alter my own plans.”
“Well, your plans are not my business. In fact, we needn’t trouble much about each other in any case.”
Jordan reflected.
“No, it wouldn’t be natural, though I bear no malice, and I hope you don’t,” he said.
“Have I shown malice?” asked the beaterman. “Have I taken this outrage in a malicious spirit?”
“You have not.”