Greenwood rose, put on his hat, and left the office without uttering another word.
He felt that he was righteously punished—for he had, in his time, often treated men in the same manner,—professing ardent friendship, and yet refusing the smallest pecuniary favour!
Having walked about for nearly half an hour, to calm the feelings which the conduct of the capitalist had so painfully excited, Greenwood repaired to the office of a great bill-discounter and speculator in Broad Street. This individual had been a constant visitor at Greenwood's house in Spring Gardens—had joined him in many of his most profitable speculations—and had gained considerable sums thereby. He was, moreover, of a very enterprising character, and always ready to risk money with the hope of large returns.
Greenwood entered the clerks' office; and, glancing towards the private one at the lower extremity, he caught sight of the speculator's countenance peering over the blinds of the glass-door which opened between the two rooms.
The face was instantly withdrawn; and Greenwood, who of course affected not to have observed its appearance at the window, inquired whether the speculator was within.
"Really I can't say, sir," drawled a clerk, who was mending a pen: then, without desisting from his operation, he said, "I'll see, sir, in a moment."
"Be so kind as to see this moment," exclaimed Greenwood, angrily. "I suppose you know who I am?"
"Oh! yes—sir—certainly, sir," returned the clerk; and, having duly nibbed the pen, he dismounted very leisurely from his stool—paused to arrange a piece of blotting-paper on the desk in a very precise manner indeed—brushed the splinters of the quill from his trousers—and then dragged himself in a lazy fashion towards the private office.
Greenwood bit his quivering lip with rage.
"Two years ago," he thought to himself, "I should not have been treated thus!"