`What，goingalready，Lowborough？’saidhe。`Well，goodmorning。’
Hesmilinglyofferedhishand。
Ithinktheotherwouldhaveknockedhimdown，hadhenotinstinctivelystartedbackbeforethatbonyfistquiveringwithrageandclenchedtilltheknucklesgleamedwhiteandglisteningthroughtheskin。Lookinguponhimwithacountenancelividwithfurioushate，LordLowboroughmutteredbetweenhisclosedteeth，adeadlyexecrationhewouldnothaveutteredhadhebeencalmenoughtochoosehiswords，anddeparted。
`Icallthatanunchristianspiritnow，’saidthevillain。`ButI’dnevergiveupanoldfriendforthesakeofawife。Youmayhavemineifyoulike，andIcallthathandsome——Icandonomorethanofferrestitution，canI？’
ButLowboroughhadgainedthebottomofthestairs，andwasnowcrossingthehall；andMr。Huntingdon，leaningoverthebanisters，calledout，——`GivemylovetoAnnabella！——andIwishyoubothahappyjourney，’