“I should like to say, then—I will assume that we stand as man to man, equal; you have probably more money invested than I; I am making possibly a larger income—you will forgive me if I am mistaken, but you told me the other day as we went up in the train that you had had a very bad year.”
“Three thousand dead loss. It does not matter so much to me, my money is invested, but it would have gone hard with many a man who was relying on his business. Three thousand pounds dead loss!”
“How was that? I suppose the temperance societies affect you; they must have had a great effect on the sale of liquor.”
“No one who was not in the trade would believe in the falling off in the quantity of whisky drunk. But it was not that.”
“What then?”
“Trade generally, trade depression affects every one; the failure of one makes bad debts for the other. It was bad debts that did it. It was very stupid of me, but I was worried at home: those fortune-hunters from the villas—my daughters are very young, and since their poor mother died they have had no one to look after them. Willy, too, is a great trial to me. Poor boy, he is most anxious to do something, but things don't go right with him; he thought he was going to do a good thing in a Bond Street shop that was converted into a company, but he lost two thousand pounds.”
“I thought he was in the distillery with you.”
“He was for a while, but he irritated me; he is so confoundedly methodical, everything must go into his diary, he spends half the day filling it up. Besides after you have conducted a business so many years you don't want a partner; you have your own way of doing things, and don't want to be interfered with. He draws a certain income, but he has nothing now to do with the business. We were talking of settlements.”
“You do not act as I should regarding the villa residences. I would put them down. I would not have it; but, as you say, we were talking of settlements. I think I said we stood as man to man. In round numbers your fortune equals mine, mine equals yours—very well, let us act equally. I will settle five hundred a year on Miss Brookes, do you likewise; what do you say to that?”
“Pooh, pooh! I couldn't think of such a thing. Five hundred a year!” said Mr. Brookes, and throwing his cigar into the fireplace, he walked up the room indignantly. “I was wrong to consent to discuss the matter; to say the least, it is premature; I never heard of such a thing. Five hundred a year! This is worse than the Southdown Road, many degrees worse.”