"Ellen," said Aunt Phœbe, in remonstrance, "I'm surprised at you. I admire the spirit that prompts your husband to make these confessions. Please do not interrupt."
"I have told lies," said George, penitently.
Mrs. Early frowned and sighed.
"I have drunk whisky, and acquired habits that made my presence obnoxious to the fair creatures, both youthful and aged—I mean experienced—with whom good fortune placed me."
Aunt Phœbe coughed.
"There are many things," said George, looking at the ceiling, "that I would not have done had I known all I know now." Observing that Aunt Phœbe's eyes were on the tablecloth, he winked at the fireplace. "But I hope that it is not too late to make amends."
"There is still time," said his aunt, fervently, "to repent and lead a better life."
"It is that which makes me glad," said George.
Having generously paid the ten-pound subscription and left behind him an impression of wholesome righteousness, Mr. Early stepped into a hansom cab and drove to Upper Thames Street.
Here his calm demeanour and amiability, contrasted with the feverishness of the last few days, caused a general raising of eyebrows. To the head clerk, who humbly apologized for his stupidity George was gentleness itself. Instead of rating him he sympathized; so that Parrott, who imagined that he had at last got a fair inkling of George Early's character, went away more mystified than ever.