Yet to Jeffreys the whole world was suddenly altered.
He set the bottle down, and neither heeding nor hearing the expostulations of his companion, he left the house never to return.
That night he slept in another part of the town; and the poor bewildered prodigal, deserted by his only friend, cried half the night through, and cursed again the Eton boy who had once saved his life.
Jeffreys, hidden in another part of the great city, sunk to a lower depth of misery than ever.

To him it seemed now that his bad name had taken form in the face of young Forrester, and was dogging him in adversity more relentlessly even than in prosperity.

It comforted him not at all to think it had saved him from a drunkard's ruin.

He despised himself, when he came to himself, for having been scared so weakly.

Yet he avoided his old quarters, and turned his back on the one friend he had, rather than face his evil genius again.
His evil genius! Was he blinded then, that he saw in all this nothing but evil and despair?
Was he so numbed that he could not feel a Father's hand leading him even through the mist?
Had he forgotten that two little boys far away were praying for him?
Had he ceased to feel that young Forrester himself might be somewhere, not far away, ready to forgive?
He was blinded, and could see nothing through the mists.
He half envied his new fellow-lodgers in the den at Ratcliff.