Jeffreys, however, glancing down the columns of the borrowed paper for a sight of his own advertisement, started and turned pale as his eye fell first on his own name, then on Forrester's.
It was like a conspiracy to bewilder and baffle him at the moment when hope seemed to be returning.

He had convinced himself that his one chance was to break with every tie which bound him to his old life, and to start afresh from the lowest step of all.

And here, at the outset, there met him two calls from that old life, both of which it was hard to resist.

Mr Rimbolt, he decided to resist at all hazards.

He still shuddered as he recalled the stiff rustle of a certain silk dress in Clarges Street, and preferred his present privations a hundredfold.
Even the thought of Percy, and the library, and Mr Rimbolt's goodness, could not efface that one overpowering impression.
The other advertisement perplexed and agitated him more.