“What does he propose?” asked Lady Kesters.
“He proposes that, for a change, I should try and get along by myself, and no longer hang on to other people.”
“Well, there is some sense in that.”
“He says that if I continue as I’ve begun, I’ll develop into the awful loafer who haunts men’s clubs, trying to borrow half a sov. from old pals, and worrying them with begging letters.”
“A pretty future for you, Owen!”
“He swears I must work for my living and earn my daily bread; and that, if, for two years from now, I can maintain myself honourably in this country or the Continent—Asia, Africa, and America are barred—and neither get into debt, prison, or any matrimonial entanglement——” he paused for a moment to laugh.
“Yes, yes,” said his sister impatiently; “and if you comply with all these conditions?”
“He will reinstate me, put me into Wynyard to take the place of his agent, and give me a handsome screw. But if I play the fool, he takes his solemn oath he will leave everything he possesses to a hospital, and all I shall come in for will be the bare estate, an empty house, and an empty title—and that he hopes to keep me out of for the next thirty years!”
“No doubt he will,” agreed his sister; “we are—bar accidents—a long-lived stock.”
“He also said that he was only fifty-six; he might marry; a Lady Wynyard——”