not? We were discussing your character, and any sidelights--" I
ended with a shrug.

"You humbug, you infernal humbug!" he said. Then he fell into silence,
staring again at the fire.

"Not at all. My interest is quite speculative. What else should it be?
Is she likely to die and leave you her property?" I spoke in sincerity,
having in my mind Jenny's purpose with regard to Fillingford, for a
settled purpose it had by now, to my thinking, become.

My sincerity went home to him, and carried with it an uncontrollable
surprise. He turned his head toward me again with a rapid jerk. His eyes
searched my face, now rather suspiciously. Then he smiled. "Yes, that's
true. I suppose I ought to beg your pardon!" he said.

He had recovered himself in time and had told me no secret. But he had
been surprised to find that I considered any relation of his to Jenny's
place and property as a mere speculation--no more than the illustration
to an argument. Then he must consider it as more than that himself. But
then how could he--he, the ostracized? Yet there was the secret treaty,
whose terms availed to keep him quiet--quiet and at Hatcham Ford. There
were a lover's obstinate hopes. And--the thought flashed into my
mind--had he any knowledge of Fillingford's frequent calls or of the
dexterous management of Lacey? It was probable that he knew as little of
them as Fillingford knew of the mysterious treaty.

Suddenly he started a new topic; between it and the previous one there
seemed no connection--unless Jenny were the link.

"I say, that's a rum fish--my new neighbor Nelson Powers!"

"You've made acquaintance? You haven't been long about it!"

"He smokes his pipe, leaning over his garden fence; I smoke mine,
leaning over my gate. Hence the acquaintance."

"Of course; you're always so affable, so accessible to strangers."

He dropped his scarcely serious pretense of having made Powers's
acquaintance casually. "Miss Driver told me something about him. We've
been in communication about this house and the Institute, you know."

"Did she tell you anything interesting about him?"

"Only that he'd been a humble friend in days gone by. You're looking
rather sour, Austin. Don't you like Mr. Nelson Powers?"

"He's not one of my particular fancies," I admitted.

"Miss Driver says he's devoted to her."

"He's in debt to her, anyhow, I expect--and perhaps that'll do as well."

"Perhaps." He was speaking now in a ruminative way--as tho