ed
its hold upon him. He imagined he was meeting Godwin on equal ground,
but the sensibility of the proletarian could not thus be deceived.
There was a brief silence, during which each looked away from the other.

'Still keep up your geology?' was Warricombe's next question.

'I can just say that I haven't forgotten it all.'

'I'm afraid that's more than I can. During my Cambridge time it caused
disagreeable debates with my father. You remember that his science is
of the old school. I wouldn't say a word to disparage him. I believe
the extent of his knowledge is magnificent; but he can't get rid of
that old man of the sea, the Book of Genesis. A few years ago I wasn't
too considerate in argument, and I talked as I oughtn't to have done,
called names, and so on. The end of it was, I dropped science
altogether, having got as much out of it as I needed. The good old
pater has quite forgiven my rudeness. At present we agree to differ,
and get on capitally. I'm sure he'll be delighted to see you. There are
some visitors with us; a Miss Moorhouse and her brother. I think you'll
like them. Couldn't you stay overnight?'

Godwin was unable to reply on the instant, and his companion proceeded
with the same heartiness.

'Just as you like, you know. But do stay if you can. On Wednesday
morning I must go back to town. I act as secretary to Godolphin, the
member for Slacksea.'

Peak's acquaintance with current politics was slight, but Mr. Ellis
Godolphin, the aristocratic Radical, necessarily stood before his
imagination with some clearness of outline. So this was how life had
dealt with Buckland. The announcement was made with a certain
satisfaction, as if it implied more than the hearer would readily
appreciate. Again there was a slight shrinking on Godwin's part; it
would be natural for him to avow his own position, and so leave no room
for misunderstandings, but before he could shape a phrase Buckland was
again questioning.

'Do you ever see any of the old fellows?'

'I have met one or two of them, by chance.'

As if his tact informed him that this inquiry had been a mistake,
Warricombe resumed the subject of his family.

'My brother Louis is at home--of course you can't remember him; he was
a youngster when you were at Thornhaw. The younger boy died some years
ago, a pony accident; cut up my father dreadfully. Then there's my
sister Sidwell, and my sister Fanny--that's all of us. I can't quite
answer for Louis, but