“ It’s about all he’s fit for,” replied Penhallow. “He isn’t doing any good at Cambridge, and never would, if he lived there for the rest of his life.”
“No, I feel sure you’re right,” Eugene agreed. “I shouldn’t think he’s doing any harm either, though — which, if you come to consider the matter, seems to be a fair epitome of Clay’s character.”
““There are times when I wonder if the little worm can possibly be a son of mine!” said Penhallow, with a touch of violence.
“Oh, I should think he must be, sir!” said Eugene, with a flicker of his sweet smile. “I mean, I don’t want you to think that I’m criticising Faith, but she always seems to me to lack the sort of enterprise that — er — characterises our family. But do we really want Clay at Trevellin?”
“You’ll put up with him,” replied Penhallow curtly.
“Oh, quite easily!” agreed Eugene. “I shouldn’t dream of letting him worry me. I don’t somehow think that Ray will like it, though.”
Penhallow showed his teeth. “Ray’s not master here yet,” he said unpleasantly.
“No, thank God! I don’t think I should stay if he were. I find him very dull and worthy, you know. And then there’s Cliff!”
“What’s the matter with him?” demanded Penhallow.
“He’s a damned dull dog, if you like, but he doesn’t live here.”