“No, I’m damned if I shall! If you can’t get that girl out of your system, she’ll have to go.”
Bart’s chin jutted dangerously. “You try interfering with Loveday, and watch me!”
“Don’t be a bigger ass than you can help! God, I thought you had more pride! Since when has a Penhallow gone to the kitchen for a wife?”
Bart flushed. “That’ll be all from you, Ray! Loveday’s worth a dozen of Faith, or Vivian, or that stuck-up bitch Cliff landed himself with. The trouble with you is that you’re eaten up with conceit. Who cares two pins for the damned family, I should like to know?”
“Go and tell Father your plans, and you’ll find out who cares,” replied Raymond.
“Oh, go to hell!” Bart exploded, and turned on his heel.
The only result of this interview was that Raymond took the first opportunity that offered of warning Loveday to leave his young brother alone. She stood demurely before him, looking up at him under her lashes, and keeping her hands folded over her apron. She denied nothing, and admitted nothing, and she betrayed no hint of resentment. She said, “Yes, sir,” and “No, sir,” in her meekest tone. He thought her either a fool, or a dangerously clever young woman, and was tempted to speak to Reuben about her. Natural taciturnity, a dislike of discussing the failings of a Penhallow with a servant, and a wary foreboding of Bart’s probable reactions to any intervention of Reuben’s made him forbear. He mentioned the matter instead to Conrad, but Conrad, who had been picking quarrels with his twin for weeks, still would not allow anyone else to criticise him. “Oh, there’s nothing in it!” Conrad said. “She isn’t the first, and she won’t be the last.”
“Do you know that he means to marry her?”
“Rot!” Conrad said scornfully. “Bart wouldn’t be such a fool!”
“I’ll take damned good care he doesn’t get the chance to be!” Raymond said. “What’s got into the kid, I should like to know?”