"Never for a single moment," was the vigorous reply. "If I felt like that, John, do you know what I should do? No? Well, then, I'll tell you. I should have those tin boxes taken out, one by one, and stacked in the hall. I should say to him, as plainly as I am saying it to you—'We lose money every year by your business, Marquis. We've had our turn. Try some one else—and go to the Devil!'"
"But you couldn't do it!" Mr. Wadham, Junior, observed disconsolately.
"I couldn't," his father agreed, with a note of subdued melancholy in his tone.
CHAPTER VI
Lady Margaret, who chanced to be the first arrival on the night of the dinner party in David Thain's honour, contemplated her sister admiringly. Letitia was wearing a gown of ivory satin, a form of attire which seemed always to bring with it almost startling reminiscences of her Italian ancestry.
"So glad to find you alone, Letty," she remarked, as she sank into the most comfortable of the easy chairs. "There's something I've been wanting to ask you for weeks. Bob put it into my head again this afternoon."
"What is it, dear?" Letitia enquired.
"Why don't you marry Charlie Grantham?" her sister demanded abruptly.
"There are so many reasons. First of all, he hasn't really ever asked me."