It was evident that somebody had been "standing treat" in the narrow passage; and leaning their elbows on the sill of the little bar window were more miners, each with his pint pot of ale.
"Here's luck to Trevethick and Coe," said one, "for a parting toast." "Ha, ha, that's good!" cried another, in appreciation of this commercial epigram; "Trevethick and Coe; to be sure." "Trevethick and Coe, and may the copper last!" But one, emboldened by the liquor, or naturally more audacious than the rest, put his head and shoulders through the open window, and, making a trumpet of his two hands, whispered in a hoarse voice, audible to every one: "And is it to be Coe and Trevethick also, Miss Harry--eh ?" Then the window was slammed down with no gentle hand, and the men went out laughing heartily, and for the first time leaving room for Richard to pass in.

He did not look toward the bar window, but, as though he had heard nothing, walked quickly past it into the sitting-room, which had been allotted to him.

It was strange, since what he had just heard only confirmed the suspicions which he had already entertained, that the words should give him annoyance; but they certainly did so.

What was more natural than that this inn-keeper's daughter should be engaged to marry her father's friend--a man apparently well-to-do, and with a prospect of doing better?
What could be more unreasonable than for Mr.
Richard Yorke, a young gentleman whose only hope in life was to marry a girl--or an old woman, for that matter--with a good fortune, to be irritated at such intelligence, especially after an acquaintance with this "Miss Harry" of about three hours at most?
After a minute or two of reflection the idea seemed to strike even himself in the same light; for he gave a short sharp laugh, and said what a fool he was, and then lit his pipe.

Even tobacco, however, that balm of hurt minds, did not altogether soothe him.