Benjulia’s head drooped in thought. The generous protest of the man whom he had injured, spoke in that outstretched hand. He looked at Ovid.
“No!” he said—and walked away.
Leaving the street, he went round to Fairfield Gardens, and rang the bell at Mr. Gallilee’s door. The bell was answered by a polite old woman—a stranger to him among the servants.
“Is Zo in the house?” he inquired.
“Nobody’s in the house, sir. It’s to be let, if you please, as soon as the furniture can be moved.”
“Do you know where Zo is? I mean, Mr. Gallilee’s youngest child.”
“I’m sorry to say, sir, I’m not acquainted with the family.”
He waited at the door, apparently hesitating what to do next. “I’ll go upstairs,” he said suddenly; “I want to look at the house. You needn’t go with me; I know my way.”
“Thank you kindly, sir!”
He went straight to the schoolroom.