He received them without any change in his attitude or softening of his harsh and black expression: merely signing to Walter to close the door.
'John Carker,' said the Manager, when this was done, turning suddenly upon his brother, with his two rows of teeth bristling as if he would have bitten him, 'what is the league between you and this young man, in virtue of which I am haunted and hunted by the mention of your name?
Is it not enough for you, John Carker, that I am your near relation, and can't detach myself from that--' 'Say disgrace, James,' interposed the other in a low voice, finding that he stammered for a word.

'You mean it, and have reason, say disgrace.' 'From that disgrace,' assented his brother with keen emphasis, 'but is the fact to be blurted out and trumpeted, and proclaimed continually in the presence of the very House! In moments of confidence too?
Do you think your name is calculated to harmonise in this place with trust and confidence, John Carker ?' 'No,' returned the other.

'No, James.

God knows I have no such thought.' 'What is your thought, then ?' said his brother, 'and why do you thrust yourself in my way?
Haven't you injured me enough already ?' 'I have never injured you, James, wilfully.' 'You are my brother,' said the Manager.

'That's injury enough.' 'I wish I could undo it, James.' 'I wish you could and would.' During this conversation, Walter had looked from one brother to the other, with pain and amazement.