“Let her buy it or take a lease of it, then,” said Grog. “You 'll see, when you come to look into it, she has been left right well off.”
Beecher turned away impatiently, and made no reply.
“All that Herefordshire rubbish of model farm and farming-stock had better be sold at once. You are not going into that humbug like the late Lord, I suppose?”
“I have come to no determination about Lackington Court as yet,” said Beecher, coldly.
“The sooner you do, then, the better. There's not a more rotten piece of expense in the world than southdowns and shorthorns, except it be Cochin-China hens and blue tulips.”
“Let Fordyce look to my subscriptions at the clubs.”
“Pure waste of money when you are not going back there.”
“But who says that I am not?” asked Beecher, angrily.
“Not yet a bit, at all events,” replied Davis, and with a grin of malicious meaning so significant that Beecher actually sickened with terror.
“It will be quite time enough to make further arrangements when I confer with the members of my family,” said Beecher, haughtily.