Thyrza had again been to the library, and so secretly that but for her station at the key-hole Mrs.Butterfield would have known nothing of it.
'Well, well, now! Tut--tut--tut!' commented portly Mr.Bower.

'To think! You never _can_ trust these young men as have more money than they know what to do with! But I didn't think it of Egremont.

That's the kind of fellow as comes to preach to the working man and tell him of his faults! Bah! Well, I'm not one for going about spreading storie.
Grail must take his chance.

Perhaps it 'ud be as well, Mrs.
Butterfield, if _you_ kept this little affair quiet--just between you and me, you know.

There's no knowing .-- Eh?
A time may come .-- Eh?
It's none of our business _just now_ .-- Eh?
You understand, Mrs.Butterfield?
It might be as well to keep an eye open to the end of the week.' Mr.Bower, on the way home, turned into his club, just to drink a glass of whisky at the club price.