"I'm sure it's not George, Brotherton."
"Who is it, then?"
"Perhaps it's the Dean."
"D—— his impudence. How on earth among you could you let George marry the daughter of a low-bred ruffian like that,—a man that never ought to have been allowed to put his foot inside the house?"
"She had such a very nice fortune! And then he wanted to marry that scheming girl, Adelaide De Baron,—without a penny."
"The De Barons, at any rate, are gentlefolk. If the Dean meddles with me, he shall find that he has got the wrong sow by the ear. If he puts his foot in the park again I'll have him warned off as a trespasser."
"But you'll see Mr. Holdenough?"
"I don't want to see anybody. I mean to hold my own, and do as I please with my own, and live as I like, and toady no one. What can I have in common with an old parson like that?"
"You'll let me see Popenjoy, Brotherton?"
"Yes," he said, pausing a moment before he answered her. "He shall be brought here, and you shall see him. But mind, mother, I shall expect you to tell me all that you hear."