The manner of speech was very annoying,—almost offensive. I bit my lips to keep myself silent. Robert went back to his chair, followed by Maimie, and then said gravely,—“We can discuss that by-and-by.”
“As you like. I’ve not made up my mind yet about plans. Most likely I shall spend a few months in England. Maimie can do as she likes about coming to me directly, or staying a little longer with you,—if you don’t object to keep her, that is to say. I shall only be in lodgings at first,—not very comfortable for her.”
I could see Maimie’s shiver, and I heard more than one suppressed “Oh!” from other parts of the room. “Certainly we do not wish to part with Maimie a day sooner than need be,” I said.
“That’s as you like; I’m in no immediate hurry till I see my way. By-the-bye, what of the old lady—Aunt Briscoe? Alive still?”
“Very much alive,” Cress said, in answer to this.
“No signs of failing? She must be old. Worth a good deal, I suppose?”
“She has her house and garden, and a comfortable income,” Robert said.
“Where does it all go when she dies?”
“Where she chooses,” Robert answered.
“Wish she’d choose to leave it to me. I could settle down then in England with this child.”