After breakfast that morning, however, he tapped his son on the shoulder as he was leaving the table, and said to him, in his distinctly business tone, “Granville, will you step with me into the library for ten minutes’ talk? There’s a small matter of the estate I desire to discuss with you.”
Granville looked back at him with a curiously amused air.
“Why, yes,” he said shortly. “It’s a very odd coincidence. But do you know, I was going this morning myself to ask for a chance of ten minutes’ talk with you.”
He rose, and followed his father into the oak-panelled library. The Colonel sat down on one of the uncomfortable library chairs, especially designed, with their knobs and excrescences, to prevent the bare possibility of serious study. Granville took a seat opposite him, across the formal oak table. Colonel Kelmscott paused; and cleared his throat nervously. Then, with military promptitude, he darted straight into the very thick of the fray.
“Granville,” he said abruptly, “I want to speak with you about a rather big affair. The fact of it is, I’m going to break the entail. I want to raise some money.”
The son gave a little start of surprise and amusement. “Why, this is very odd,” he exclaimed once more, in an astonished tone. “That’s just the precise thing I wanted to talk about with you.”
Colonel Kelmscott eyed him with an answering start.
“Not debts!” he said slowly. “My boy, my boy, this is bad. Not debts surely, Granville; I never suspected it.”
“Oh, dear no,” Granville answered frankly. “No debts, you may be sure. But I wanted to feel myself on a satisfactory basis—as to income and so forth: and I was prepared to pay for my freedom well. To tell you the truth outright, I want to marry.”
Colonel Kelmscott eyed him close with a very puzzled look. “Not Elma Clifford, my boy,” he said again quickly. “For of course, if it is her, Granville, I need hardly say—”