I\'mverygratefultoyou，andwe\'llpartfriends。Good-night，sir。\"
Thefatherheldouthishandinsilence。Theheavyportieredroppednoiselesslybehindtheson，andhewentupthewide，curvingstairwaytohisownroom。
MeantimeJohnWeightmansatinhiscarvedchairintheJacobeandining-room。Hefeltstrangelyoldanddull。TheportraitsofbeautifulwomenbyLawrenceandReynoldsandRaeburn，whichhadoftenseemedlikerealcompanytohim，lookedremoteanduninteresting。
Hefanciedsomethingcoldandalmostunfriendlyintheirexpression，asiftheywerestaringthroughhimorbeyondhim。Theycarednothingforhisprinciples，hishopes，hisdisappointments，hissuccesses；
theybelongedtoanotherworld，inwhichhehadnoplace。Atthishefeltavagueresentment，asenseofdiscomfortthathecouldnothavedefinedorexplained。Hewasusedtobeingconsidered，respected，appreciatedathisfullvalueineveryregion，eveninthatofhisowndreams。