`Oh! It is only a question of a few hours. I could go to Soho in the evening, and come to your chambers afterwards.'
`Then I say yes,' said Stryver: `I won't go up there now, I am not so hot upon it as that comes to; I say yes, and I shall expect you to look in to-night. Good-morning.'
Then Mr. Stryver turned and burst out of the Bank, causing such a concussion of air on his passage through, that to stand up against it bowing behind the two counters, required the utmost remaining strength of the two ancient clerks.
Those venerable and feeble persons were always seen by the public in the act of bowing, and were popularly believed, when they had bowed a customer out, still to keep on bowing in the empty office until they bowed another customer in.
The barrister was keen enough to divine that the banker would not have gone so far in his expression of opinion on any less solid ground than moral certainty. Unprepared as he was for the large pill he had to swallow, he got it down. `And now,' said Mr. Stryver, shaking his forensic forefinger at the Temple in general, when it was down, `my way out of this, is, to put you all in the wrong.'
It was a bit of the art of an Old Bailey tactician, in which he found great relief. `You shall not put me in the wrong, young lady,' said Mr. Stryver; `I'll do that for you.'
Accordingly, when Mr. Lorry called that night as late as ten o'clock, Mr. Stryver, among a quantity of books and papers littered out for the purpose, seemed to have nothing less on his mind than the subject of the morning. He even showed surprise when he saw Mr. Lorry, and was altogether in an absent and preoccupied state.
`Well!' said that good-natured emissary, after a full half-hour of bootless attempts to bring him round to the question. `I have been to Soho.'
`To Soho?' repeated Mr. Stryver, coldly. `Oh, to be sure! What am I thinking of!'
`And I have no doubt,' said Mr. Lorry, `that I was right in the conversation we had. My opinion is confirmed, and I reiterate my advice.'
`I assure you,' returned Mr. Stryver, in the friendliest way, `that I am sorry for it on your account, and sorry for it on the poor father's account. I know this must always be a sore subject with the family; let us say no more about it.'
`I don't understand you,' said Mr Lorry.
`I dare say not,' rejoined Stryver, nodding his head in a smoothing and final way; no matter, no matter.'
`But it does matter,' Mr. Lorry urged.
`No it doesn't; I assure you it doesn't. Having supposed that there was sense where there is no sense, and a laudable ambition where there is not a laudable ambition, I am well out of my mistake, and no harm is done. Young women have committed similar follies often before, and have repented them in poverty and obscurity often before. In an unselfish aspect, I am sorry that the thing is dropped, because it would have been a bad thing for me in a worldly point of view; in a selfish aspect, I am glad that the thing has dropped, because it would have been a bad thing for me in a worldly point of view--it is hardly necessary to say I could have gained nothing by it. There is no harm at all done. I have not proposed to the young lady, and, between ourselves, I am by no means certain, on reflection, that I ever should have committed myself to that extent. Mr. Lorry, you cannot control the mincing vanities and giddinesses of empty-headed girls; you must not expect to do it, or you will always he disappointed.
Now, pray say no more about it. I tell you, I regret it on account of others, but I am satisfied on my own account. And I am really very much obliged to you for allowing me to sound you, and for giving me your advice; you know the young lady better than I do; you were right, it never would have done.
Mr. Lorry was so taken aback, that he looked quite stupidly at Mr. Stryver shouldering him towards the door, with an appearance of showering generosity, forbearance, and goodwill, on his erring head. 'Make the best of it, my dear sir,' said Stryver; `say no more about it; thank you again for allowing me to sound you; good-night!' Mr. Lorry was out in the night, before he knew where he was. Mr. Stryver was lying back on his sofa, winking at his Ceiling.
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