But the scheme would not be realised; it sounded too unlikely.
Andrew Peak was merely a loose-minded vagabond, who might talk of
this and that project for making money, but would certainly never
quit his dirty haunts in London. Godwin asked himself angrily why he
had submitted to the fellow's companionship. This absurd delicacy
must be corrected before it became his tyrant. The idea of scrupling
to hurt the sensibilities of Andrew Peak! The man was coarse-hided
enough to undergo kicking, and then take sixpence in compensation,
--not a doubt of it. This detestable tie of kindred must no longer
be recognised. He would speak gravely to his mother about it. If
Andrew again presented himself at the house he should be given
plainly to understand that his visits were something less than
welcome,--if necessary, a downright blunt word must effect their
liberation. Godwin felt strong enough for that, musing here alone.
And, student-like, he passed on to debate the theory of the problem.
Andrew was his father's brother, but what is a mere tie of blood if
nature has alienated two persons by a subtler distinction? By the
dead man, Andrew had never been loved or esteemed; memory supplied
proof of this. The widow shrank from him. No obligation of any kind
lay upon them to tolerate the London ruffian.--Enough; he should
be got rid of!

Alternating his causes of misery, which--he could not quite forget
--might blend for the sudden transformation of his life, Godwin let
the tea grow cold upon the table, until it was time, if he still
meant to visit the theatre, for setting forth. He had no mind to go,
but as little to sit here and indulge harassing reflection. With an
effort, he made ready and left the house.

The cost of his seat at the theatre was two shillings. So nicely had