But Haworth passed him over with a nod. His eyes were fixed on Murdoch. He gave him a nod also and spoke to him.
"What, you're here, are you?" he said. "That's a good thing."
"We think so," said Mr. Ffrench, with fresh fervor. "My dear fellow, sit down."
He took the chair offered him, but still looked at Murdoch and spoke to him.
"I've been to Briarley's," he said. "I've had a talk with that little lass of his. She gave me the notion you'd be here. She's a sharp little un, by George!"
"They're all sharp," said Mr. Ffrench. "The precocity one finds in these manufacturing towns is something astonishing—astonishing."
He launched at once into a dissertation upon the causes of precocity in a manufacturing town, and became so absorbed in his theme that it mattered very little that Haworth paid no attention to him. He was leaning back in his chair with his hands in his pockets, not moving his eyes from Murdoch.
Mr. Ffrench was in the middle of his dissertation when, half an hour afterward, Haworth got up without ceremony. Murdoch was going.
"I'll go with you," he said to him.
They went out of the room and down the staircase together without speaking. They did not even look at each other.