"Moderate. We are short of heifers. But you didn't come back from London to ask about the farm."
John pushed back his plate and drew his chair opposite to his brother's.
"I did not," he assented. "I came back to tell you my news."
"I was thinking that might be it," Stephen muttered.
John crossed the room, found his pipe in a drawer, filled it with tobacco, and lit it.
"Old man," he said, as he returned to his place, "it's all very well for you and old Jennings to put your heads together every night and drink confusion to all women; but you know very well that if there are to be any more Strangeweys at Peak Hall, either you or I must marry!"
Stephen moved uneasily in his chair.
"If you're going to marry that woman—" he began.
"I am going to marry Louise Maurel," John interrupted firmly. "Stephen, listen to me for a moment before you say another word, please. It is all settled. She has promised to be my wife. I don't forget what we've been to each other. I don't forget the old name and the old tradition; but I have been fortunate enough to meet a woman whom I love, and I am going to marry her. Don't speak hurriedly, Stephen! Think whatever you will, but keep it to yourself. Some day I shall expect you to give me your hand and tell me you are glad."
Stephen knocked the ashes deliberately from his pipe.