"I've finished my business at the Grange, and it is no use my staying there; besides, Miss Challoner dislikes me so much that it was painful for me to live in the same house with her."
"How do you know she dislikes you?"
"It's easily seen; her manner is quite sufficient--besides, by persuading me to give way to this again," he added vehemently, touching his glass, "you have caused me to lose all hope and self-respect; every person who looks at me seems to be pitying my downfall."
"Well then, give up the drink."
"What's the good?" said Nestley despairingly. "I left it off for five years, yet such is my weak nature that I yielded to your persuasions, and now it has got complete mastery of me again."
"You seem determined to regard me as your evil genius," said the artist deliberately. "Why I do not know. I suggested a little wine on that evening, in order to cheer you up--that is all."
"All! and quite enough too. You knew, in the old days, when I took one glass it meant more."
"I am not to blame for your weakness."
"No doubt--but knowing that weakness you might have left me alone."
"Well, well," said Beaumont impatiently, "my back is broad enough to bear your sins as well as my own. What are you going to do now?"