"Much the same as usual. It was the coal and blanket account."
"Oh!—the coal and blanket account! I hope you liked it." Then
he folded himself afresh in his cloaks, ate a strawberry, and looked as though he had taken sufficient notice of his brother.
But the matter was very important to Lord George. Nothing ever seemed to be of importance to the Marquis. It might be very probable that the Marquis, with half-a-dozen servants behind him, should drive up to the door at Manor Cross without having given an hour's notice of his intention. It seemed to be too probable to Lord George that such would be the case now. For what other reason could he be there? And then there was his back. Though they had quarrelled he was bound to ask after his brother's back. When last they two had met, the Marquis had been almost carried into the room by two men. "I hope you find yourself better than when I last saw you," he said, after a pause of five minutes.
"I've not much to boast of. I can just travel, and that's all."
"And how is—Popenjoy?"
"Upon my word I can't tell you. He has never seemed to be very well when I've seen him."
"I hope the accounts have been better," said Lord George, with solicitude.
"Coal and blanket accounts!" suggested the Marquis. And then the conversation was again brought to an end for five minutes.
But it was essential that Lord George should know whither his brother was going. If to Manor Cross, then, thought Lord George, he himself would stay at an inn at Brotherton. Anything, even the deanery, would be better than sitting at table with his brother, with the insults of their last interview unappeased. At the end of five minutes he plucked up his courage, and asked his brother another question. "Are you going to the house, Brotherton?"