"Where the devil is my cheque-book? Oh, I know, I left it in
Bolton Street. Here, this will do as well," and he took up a draft note
made out to his order, and, rapidly signing his name on the back of it,
handed it to Mr. Granger. It was in payment of the fees in the great
case of Parsons and Douse and some other matters. Mr. Granger took the
draft, and, holding it close to his eyes, glanced at the amount; it was
L200.
"But this is double what I asked for," he said doubtfully. "Am I to
return you L100?"
"No, no," answered Geoffrey, "I daresay that you have some debts to pay.
Thank Heaven, I can get on very well and earn more money than I want.
Not enough clothing--it is shocking to think of!" he added, more to
himself than to his listener.
The old man rose, his eyes full of tears. "God bless you," he said,
"God bless you. I do not know how to thank you--I don't indeed," and he
caught Geoffrey's hand between his trembling palms and pressed it.
"Please do not say any more, Mr. Granger; it really is only a matter of
mutual obligation. No, no, I don't want any note of hand.
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