“Listen to me,” she said, rising and coming closer to him; “supposing Owen were to give you a promise in writing that he would stick steadily to one situation for two years, what would you say then?”
“I’d say that the promise would not be worth the paper it was written on!” he answered, with gruff emphasis. “Give me deeds, not documents.”
“Oh, so that is your opinion and your last word?”
“It’s my opinion—yes—but as to the last word, of course it’s your perquisite!” and he chuckled complacently.
Lady Kesters stood for a moment looking steadily at her uncle, and he as steadily at her. Then she slowly crossed the room and touched a bell to summon a footman, who presently ushered her out of the house.
CHAPTER IV
LEILA’S IDEA
As Lady Kesters motored home in her smart new Rolls-Royce, her expression was unusually grave; for once Uncle Dick had proved invulnerable, and she was overpowered with surprise; for her ladyship was so accustomed “to push the world before her,” to borrow an Irish expression, that any little resistance affected her in the nature of a shock.
Her brother was awaiting her in the smoking-room, and as she entered and threw off her furs, he said—
“So it was no go, Leila! Your embassy was a failure; defeat is written on your face—ahem—I told you so!”
“Now, Owen, I call this base ingratitude. I’ve wasted my whole morning fighting for you, I am worsted in the battle, and you receive me with grins and gibes!”