So Joan's tender heart was comforted, and Colonel Stacey kept his half-sovereign, which if he could not have afforded to lose he would never have thought of offering.
CHAPTER XVI
THE MONEY QUESTION
Walter Clinton, with his wife and two little girls, arrived at Kencote an hour or so before dinner-time, and the Squire instantly seized upon him for a confabulation. "George Senhouse is in my room," he said, "and the rest are playing pool. Come into the smoking-room. I want to speak to you."
Walter followed him through the baize door and down the stone passage. He was not so handsome as Dick nor so smart-looking as Humphrey, but he was tall and well set up, with an air of energy and good-humour that was attractive. "It's jolly to be here for a bit again," he said. "I've been working like a nigger. We've got a regular plague of influenza at Melbury Park."
The Squire grunted. He was pleased enough to see his son, but he always shied at the words Melbury Park, and rather disliked mention of Walter's profession, which had been none of his choosing.
"Well, I suppose you've heard of this wretched business of Dick's," he said, as he lighted a big cigar.
Walter filled his pipe, standing by the fire. "Yes. I've seen him," he said.
The Squire held the match in his hand as he exclaimed, "You've seen him, eh?"