If you've any influence with the young lady, perhaps you could put it to her, and get her to look at things in that light," Mr.Tulliver added, becoming quite obsequious as it dawned upon him that this interloping stranger might be able to do him a service.
"I'll do my best for you, Tulliver," Mr.Nowell replied, in a patronising tone.

"I daresay the young lady will be quite willing to entertain any reasonable proposition you may make." Faithful to his promise Mr.Nowell appeared at a quarter past six next morning, at which hour he found his daughter quite ready for her journey.
She was very glad to get away from that dreary house, made a hundredfold more dismal by the sense of what lay in the closed chamber, where the candles were still burning in the yellow fog of the November morning, and to which Marian had gone with hushed footsteps to kneel for the last time beside the old man who was so near her by the ties of relationship, and whom she had known for so brief a space.

She was glad to leave that dingy quarter of the town, which to one who had never lived in an English city seemed unspeakably close and wretched; still more glad to think that she was going back to the quiet home, where her husband would most likely join her very soon.

She might find him there when she arrived, perhaps; for he knew nothing of this journey to London, or could only hear of it at the Grange, where she had left a letter for him, enclosing that brief note of Gilbert Fenton's which had informed her of her grandfather's fatal illness.

There were special reasons why she should not ask him to meet her in Queen Anne's Court, however long she might have been compelled to stay there.
Mr.Nowell was much more affectionate in his manner to his daughter this morning, as they sat in the cab driving to the station, and walked side by side upon the platform in the quarter of an hour's interval before the departure of the train.