Hawkesbury and I buried ourselves in our work, and Doubleday, standing before the fire, began to whistle softly.
Could anything have happened more awkwardly and suspiciously?
Jack must certainly believe we were all talking about him, and the ill-fated word he had overheard would naturally suggest to him-- "When you've done laughing, young Batchelor," said Doubleday, stopping short in his whistling, "we'll get to work." This unexpected remark, which of course was a delicate way of calling everybody's attention to my rueful countenance, served to put all the rest of the company except myself at their ease, and Mr Barnacle's entrance a minute afterwards put an end for the time to any further conversation.
But the day dragged on miserably.

What must Jack think of me?
He would be sure to believe the worst of me, and it was impossible for me to explain.
"After all," I thought, "if he does choose to form wrong conclusions, why should I afflict myself?
No one was even speaking of him when he entered the office.

What business of mine is it to put him right ?" And then, as usual, I forgot all about the injury I had done him, all my treachery, all my meanness, and instead felt rather aggrieved, and persuaded myself it was I, not he, who was the injured person.
At dinner-time I ostentatiously went out arm-in-arm with Hawkesbury, and when on returning I met Smith on the stairs I brushed past him as if I had not seen him.
That afternoon I was called upon unexpectedly to go down to the docks to see after the shipment of some goods.

I was relieved to have the excuse for being alone and getting away from the unpleasant surroundings of Hawk Street.
It was late in the afternoon when I returned, so late that I almost expected the fellows would some of them have left for the day.

But as I entered the office I noticed they were all there, and became aware that something unusual was taking place.