Also, though he would not have confessed it to his inmost self, Josh's preposterous assumptions, by sheer force of frequent and energetic reiteration, had made upon him an impression of possible validity--not probable, but possible; and the possible was quite enough to stir deep down in Arkwright's soul the all but universal deference before power.

It never occurred to him to suspect there might be design in Craig's sweeping assertions and assumptions of superiority, that he might be shrewdly calculating that, underneath the ridicule those obstreperous vanities would create, there would gradually form and steadily grow a conviction of solid truth, a conviction that Joshua Craig was indeed the personage he professed to be--mighty, inevitably prevailing, Napoleonic.
This latent feeling of Arkwright's was, however, not strong enough to suppress his irritation when, a few days later, he went to the Severences for tea, and found Margaret and Josh alone in the garden, walking up and down, engaged in a conversation that was obviously intimate and absorbing.

When he appeared on the veranda Joshua greeted him with an eloquent smile of loving friendship.
"Ah, there you are now!" he cried.

"Well, little ones, I'll leave you together.

I've wasted as much time as I can spare to-day to frivolity." "Yes, hurry back to work," said Arkwright.