'Mr Burton, if the money is to be yours, I'll have none of it. I'm not disposed to be beholden to your charity, nor to you in any way, as you are aware. If it is to be mine, you'll have none of it; I know your tastes, and will not pander to their gratification. Let me pass.'
'See how different we are. If the money is to be mine--and it will be; it's as good as mine already--I'll give you a few coppers every time we meet; I'll even send you some occasionally through the post. Good-night! My love to both the ladies!'
Mr Burton hailed a passing hansom and was driven off. Mr Holland continued his promenade, but had not gone far before he was accosted from behind.
'Mr Holland! Mr Holland!' exclaimed a female voice, as if the speaker were in distress for want of breath.
'Who's that?' He turned to see. A feminine figure was hastening towards him. 'This promises to be a night of adventure. Has that little hussy become humanised and changed her mind?'
The caller approached, holding her hand to her side.
'I wish to speak to you. You know me?'
They stood close to a lamp. Mr Holland looked her up and down.
'I seem to have seen you before. You are the person who rushed into the house as I came out.'
'That is it; I rushed--from him!'