"I'd rather be a bit of brittle china, than made so that I couldn't stand a review," said Gerald. "It's to be hoped there's not many such people."
"Only one in tens of thousands, Gerald."
"Does it--trouble him?" asked Gerald, hesitatingly.
"The advance of death?--yes, in a degree. Not for the death, Gerald: but the quitting me and Nelly."
"I'm not yet what Hamish and Arthur are, safe to be heard up there when they ask for a thing," again interrupted Roland, jerking his head upwards: "but I do pray that from the day that bad base man hears of Hamish Channing's death, he'll be haunted by his ghost for ever. My goodness! I'd not like to have murder on my conscience. It's as bad as the fellow who killed Mr. Ollivera."
Gerald Yorke rose. Ellen asked him to wait and see Hamish, but he answered, in what seemed a desperate hurry, that he had an engagement.
"You might like to take a peep at him, Gerald," spoke Roland. "His face looks as peaceful as if it were sainted."
Gerald's answer was to turn tail and go off. Roland, who had some copying on hand that was being waited for, stayed to shake hands with Mrs. Channing.
"Look here," he whispered to her. "Don't you let him worry his mind about you and Nelly: in the way of money, you know. I shall be sure to get into something good soon; Vincent will see to that; and I'll take care of both of you. Goodbye."
Poor, penniless, good-hearted Roland! He would have "taken care" of all the world.