As he came from the door he caught sight of Paul. Paul hoped that he had got over his bitterness towards him by this time, and that he would come forward and greet him on the old footing of friendship. But he was disappointed; for as soon almost as Stanley caught sight of him, he turned away his head and commenced talking rapidly to Newall, as though he were unaware of Paul's existence. It was perfectly evident that his feeling to Paul had not softened in any way, and it was quite as clear that he meant ignoring him.
Paul determined to speak to him, however, so, as he passed by him, he touched him on the shoulder.
"Stanley!"
At his touch, Stanley turned swiftly round and confronted him with blazing eyes.
"What do you want with me?"
"To speak with you for a few moments—alone."
"I've had as much speaking with you as I ever want to have. I never wish to speak with you again—never, never!" He was greatly agitated. His voice was trembling with passion; but it grew calmer and harder, as, turning to his new-found companions, he said:
"You hear what I say, Newall; and you, Parfitt. You are my witnesses."
"Yes, we hear. We are your witnesses," said Parfitt.
"Thanks!" And without waiting an answer from Paul, the three passed on. Not that Paul had an answer to give. He could not have spoken had his life depended on it. He was too staggered; too pained. Never speak to Stanley again! He with whom he had been on the closest terms of friendship ever since he had been at Garside!