“I have not been there since Mr Gartram died.”
“Well, I am!” cried Gellow. “You’re engaged to the young lady, and haven’t been since the father’s death. Why?”
Glyddyr was silent.
“Good heavens, man, don’t turn stunt like that. There isn’t a tiff on, is there?”
“I felt it better not to go near the house while the poor girl is in so much trouble.”
“Hark at him!” cried Gellow excitedly, “when every day he stops away may mean ten thousand pounds.”
“She may have been ill, and I have been unwell,” said Glyddyr sullenly.
“And all the time the old man’s money might be running down the sink hole, or into the poor relatives’ pockets. What are you at?”
“I tell you I couldn’t go to the house with that old man lying there dead,” cried Glyddyr, with a half-suppressed shudder.
“Look at him!” cried Gellow angrily, “shivering and shaking as if he had been on the drink for six months. Not afraid of a dead man, are you?”