The hanging lamp over the table in the green room had been lit.
Anne’s hand fell slowly from the child’s cap she was crocheting. She had been aware for a long time of the irregular sounds of Christopher’s steps. Her brother walked restlessly up and down the rooms. Occasionally he bumped into the open wings of doors, then again he would make aimless, unnecessary circuits round the furniture.
Anne noticed that Thomas dropped the newspaper he was reading upon his knees. He too was listening to the disordered steps.
Again Christopher came in collision with a door, then he stopped nervously near the table.
“Land fetches a big price nowadays.” While he spoke he lit a cigar and the smoke came in puffs from his lips. “It will never again fetch as much. We ought to sell some of the building sites; we have too many; at any rate I know of a better investment.”
Anne did not like the idea. She would have liked to keep everything as it had been left to them by their grandfather.
“Our grandfather would be the first to exploit this exorbitant boom,” said Christopher with unnecessary temper. “You don’t understand these things, my dear.”
Anne sighed.
“You are right. Speak to Thomas about it.”
“To me?” Illey laughed frigidly. Looking at Christopher his expression became haughty. “I understand that you gamble on the Stock Exchange and that you win. Take care. It is always like that at the start and then fortune turns. People only stop it when they have broken their necks.”