His brain, unaccustomed to much reflection, and dulled by pretty frequent potations, was fairly muddled.

Most heartily did he wish that this young landscape-painter had never set foot in Gethin; but yet he could not make up his mind to summarily eject him.

Upon the whole, he was almost as glad to temporize in the matter as Richard was himself.
In point of fact, Richard Yorke had won the battle, and was for the present master of the field; but what a struggle it had been, and at what a loss he had obtained the victory, you might have read in his white face and haggard eyes.

As to whether it would be possible to hold the advantage he had gained was a problem he had yet to solve.

He had committed himself to a policy which might--nay, very probably would--succeed; but if it should fail, there would be no escape from utter ruin.