“Perhaps it would be better if you didn’t tell me what you did mean.”
Lisle nodded. He felt that he had deserved the rebuke, as the truth of his assertion could not be admitted without disparaging Gladwyne. She would allow nothing to the latter’s discredit to be said by a stranger, but it was unpleasant to think that she regarded him as one. He changed the subject.
“You mentioned that landlord and laborer had a joint interest in the soil, and that’s undoubtedly right,” he said. “The point where trouble arises is, of course, over the division of the yield. The former’s share is obvious, but nowadays plowman and forester want more than their fathers seem to have been satisfied with. I don’t think you can blame them—in Canada they get more.”
“I’ll give you an instance to show why one can’t treat them very liberally. When my brother got possession he spent a great deal of money—it was left him by his mother and didn’t come out of the land—in draining, improvements, and rebuilding homesteads and cottages, besides freely giving his time and care. For a number of years he got no return at all, and part of the expenditure will always be unproductive. It isn’t a solitary case.”
They went on together through the shadowy, crimson-tinted dale until Millicent stopped at the gate of a field-road.
“I am going to one of the cottages yonder,” she explained. “I expect Nasmyth on Wednesday evening. Are you coming with him?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m going to Marple’s. You see, I promised.”
“Promised Marple?”
He was learning to understand her, for though she showed no marked sign of displeasure he knew that she was not gratified.