“Oh, most certainly—most certainly,” the lawyer declared emphatically.
“Then please do not question my instructions any further. So far as regards the pecuniary part of it, I am a richer man than you have any idea of, Mr. Pengarth, and for the rest—sentiment unfortunately does not appeal to me. I choose to give the Tredowen estates away, to disappoint my next of kin. That is how you may regard the transaction. We will go into the house and complete this deed.”
Wingrave rose slowly and walked with some difficulty up the gravel path. He ignored, however, his companion’s timid offer of help, and led the way to the library. In a few minutes the document was signed and witnessed.
“I have ordered tea in the garden,” Wingrave said, as the two servants left the room; “that is, unless you prefer any other sort of refreshment. I don’t know much about the cellars, but there is some cabinet hock, I believe—”
Mr. Pengarth interposed.
“I am very much obliged,” he said, “but I will not intrude upon you further. If you will allow me, I will ring the bell for my trap.”
“You will do nothing of the sort,” Wingrave answered testily. “You will stay here and talk to me.”
“I will stay with pleasure if you desire it,” the lawyer answered. “I had an idea that you preferred solitude.”
“Then you were wrong,” Wingrave answered. “I hate being alone.”
They moved out together towards the garden. Tea was set out in a shady corner of the lawn.