"That he can do our man good or ill?" Soolsby asked sharply--"that he,
yonder, can do that?"

She inclined her head.

"When I see him doing ill--well, when I see him doing that"--he snatched
up a piece of wood from the floor--"then I will break him, so!"

He snapped the stick across his knee, and threw the pieces on the ground.
He was excited. He got to his feet and walked up and down the little
room, his lips shut tight, his round eyes flaring.

Faith watched him in astonishment. In the past she had seen his face
cloud over, his eyes grow sulky, at the mention of Lord Eglington's name;
she knew that Soolsby hated him; but his aversion now was more definite
and violent than he had before shown, save on that night long ago when
David went first to Egypt, and she had heard hard words between them in
this same hut. She supposed it one of those antipathies which often grow
in inverse ratio to the social position of those concerned. She replied
in a soothing voice:

"Then we shall hope that he will do our Davy only good."

"You would not wish me to break his lordship? You would not wish it?"
He came over to her, and looked sharply at her. "You would not wish it?"
he repeated meaningly.

She evaded his question. "Lord Eglington will be a great man one day
perhaps," she answered. "He has made his way quickly. How high he has