Though he was annoyed at the unexpected display of firmness made by Blake, he was not alarmed, knowing he held the strongest hand in the game, and that Reginald would be forced to yield everything up to him, if he wanted to remain rich. Still, it was most irritating, for no one likes the worm to turn, as it is plainly the duty of the worm to be trodden upon; and for such a miserable thing as the worm to resent its fate, is going in direct opposition to the laws of Nature. However, there is an exception to every rule; and in this case Mr. Beaumont's worm was a more daring animal than he had any idea of; and, in spite of being the strongest party, he might well doubt with whom the victory would ultimately rest.
However, Beaumont's habitual self-command came to his aid, and prevented him showing any irritation, when he stood on the Paddington platform at the window of a smoking carriage, wishing Reginald good-bye.
"I hope you have enjoyed your stay in London," he said heartily.
"So-so," answered Reginald wearily. "I cannot enjoy anything very much, knowing the circumstances of my birth."
"Nonsense! You'll soon forget all about that."
"I don't think so, unfortunately for myself I have not your happy facility for forgetting."
"Pshaw! You are rich, and gold hides everything."
"From the eyes of the world, yes; but not from a man's own sight--nobody knows but the wearer where the shoe pinches."
"If that is the case, let the wearer smile blandly and the world will never guess his shoe doesn't fit him--it's your fools, who wear their hearts on their sleeves, that get the worst word of everyone."
"And the wise man who conceals a vicious life gets the praise," said Blake bitterly. "What a delightful world."