Bridgminster merely laughed at this practical suggestion. His laugh was still well-bred, almost silent, but his loose cheeks shook, his eyes watered. “As if she did not spend enough as it is. I have no desire to die a pauper.”
“You seem to forget that you could not. Do you mind telling me who or what you are saving for? You have no boys to educate, as my father had—unless you contemplate marrying.”
“Marrying!” He hurled out the word with a coarse violence, which, however, failed to disgust his next of kin. “I read somewhere that in America they use Chinamen as house servants. I have a mind to turn out Felt and the rest of them and put in the pig-tails. I’d never see a woman if I could help it.” And then he indulged in observations not to be repeated.
“You are fortunate in being able to indulge your antipathies. There is nothing for me but to marry some woman with money, and this I must do in short order whether I like her or not.”
“It doesn’t matter whether you like her or not; you’d hate her before long.” Hopefully: “She might buy this place.”
“You forget that I have gone in for diplomacy. I shall be little in England.”
“Well, then, help me to dispose of it to this vulgarian for half a million of money.”
Ordham made no reply, but helped himself to a glass of chartreuse.
“Why don’t you drink port? I didn’t know those silly liqueurs were in the house.”
“I dislike heavy wines.”