favour you are safe, and the chances are that the verdict will be in your favour."
"I care nothing now for the verdict," said Mr. Crawley.
"And you will turn your wife into the poorhouse for an idea!"
"It's dogged as does it," said Mr. Crawley to himself. "I have thought of that," he said aloud. "That my wife is dear to me, and that my children are dear, I will not deny. She was softly nurtured, Dr. Tempest, and came from a house in which want was never known. Since she has shared my board she has had some experience of that nature. That I should have brought her to all this is very terrible to me,—so terrible, that I often wonder how it is that I live. But, sir, you will agree with me, that my duty as a clergyman is above everything. I do not dare, even for their sake, to remain in the parish. Good morning, Dr. Tempest." Dr. Tempest, finding that he could not prevail with him, bade him adieu, feeling that any service to the Crawleys within his power might be best done by intercession with the bishop and with the dean.
Then Mr. Crawley walked back to Hogglestock, repeating to himself Giles Hoggett's words, "It's dogged as does it."
