“No, sir. I determined to tell you that you are not justified in these proceedings, and that they are injurious to his sister.”

“Are you her schoolmaster as well as her brother’s?⁠—Or perhaps you would like to be?” said Eugene.

It was a stab that the blood followed, in its rush to Bradley Headstone’s face, as swiftly as if it had been dealt with a dagger. “What do you mean by that?” was as much as he could utter.

“A natural ambition enough,” said Eugene, coolly. “Far be it from me to say otherwise. The sister who is something too much upon your lips, perhaps⁠—is so very different from all the associations to which she had been used, and from all the low obscure people about her, that it is a very natural ambition.”

“Do you throw my obscurity in my teeth, Mr. Wrayburn?”