“Long as I like. P’raps I shall have the house done up, and come and live here.”
“What?”
“Ah! what indeed! Suppose I bought the lease of the governor? What have you got to say to that?”
Hendon glared at him wildly.
“How’s the little angel—Janet?”
Hendon’s hands clenched, and he ground his teeth, while Poynter laughed at him.
“So the big brother’s out of the hospital; got over his D.T., and lodging with his sister, eh?”
Hendon made no reply.
“Come, old chap,” continued Poynter, “have a cigar, and do try and be sensible. I don’t want to do nothing hard, but of course a man must fight for his own hand. I haven’t come here to sell you up, but to bring you to your senses, like the friend I always was. Now look here, Hendon, this brother seems to be as loose a fish as a girl could have for a relation; but Miss Heath’s as smart a little lass as e’er stepped—”
“Have the goodness to leave Miss Heath’s name alone, sir.”