"I don't see why Florry shouldn't get used to his name," replied Spolger, sulkily. "Of course, I know she loved him, but it's all over now; he won't trouble her again."
"Why not?" demanded Marson, quickly.
"Because he's gone away. He had the impudence to call on me before he went, but I soon settled him, though he upset me dreadfully."
"What did he call about?"
Spolger was going to reply, when once more the door was thrown open, and the footman announced in stentorian tones:
"Mr. Roger Axton."
"Oh, how do you do, Mr. Axton?" said Mr. Marson, going forward to meet the young man. "I did not know you were down here."
"No! I came by this morning's train from town," replied Roger, shaking the old man's hand. "I trust you are well, Mr. Spolger?"
That gentleman shook his head as Axton sat down, and lights being brought in at this moment, looked sharply at the new-comer, answering his question in the Socratian fashion by asking another.
"Are you well?"