"Well, Preston," he said, "what is it?" when at length they reached his lodgings, and were sitting alone in the little room which the old couple had allotted to him.
"I was thinking," said Preston, "of what you mean to do in the future."
"I don't think I shall go to work to-morrow," said Paul. "I shall need one day's holiday to get things straightened out a bit, but, as you know, my place is kept open for me."
"Have you any brass?" asked Preston abruptly.
"Not much," said Paul; "but I've saved a few pounds." And then, with a laugh, "It's cost me nothing to live during the winter, you know. All the same, I've had to work hard for the black bread and skilly."
"Come, now," said Preston, "let's say no more about that. I know you had a bad time, but you know by this time that no one in Brunford thinks the worse of you because of it, and no one thinks the better of Wilson. And it's not Christian to cherish black thoughts about them, or about Bolitho either. As you say, he was paid for his job, and he did it. How much money have you saved?"
"Two hundred pounds," said Paul.
"So much?" said the other in a tone of surprise. "Ay, I did not think you had done as well as that!"
"Well, you see," replied Paul, "I have had good wages and I've lived hard. I have spent nothing on luxuries. I have had no holidays."
"It must have cost you something for these," said Preston, looking at the well-filled bookcases on the wall.