"Preposterous!" Marston exclaimed, throwing down the paper. "Your pretty new house? Besides, it's Flora's house as well as yours!"
"Flora agrees," said Wyndham quietly.
Marston got up and his face was red. "Looks as if you don't mean to let me help much. It's senseless exaggeration; things aren't as bad as you make out. However, I've had enough. I'll get angry if I stay."
"You ought to approve; I imagined you liked a thorough job," Wyndham rejoined, and Marston frowned as he crossed the floor.
Men spoke to him as he passed their tables, but he did not stop and going to the drawing-room found Flora alone. When he came in she put down her book and indicated an easy chair.
"Stop and talk to me, Bob. I was beginning to feel neglected," she said. "But what has happened? You look annoyed."
"I am rather savage," Marston admitted. "Think I'll stand until I get cool. Do you know Harry has sold Red Rose?"
"I knew he wanted to sell her," Flora said quietly.
"This is not all. D'you know about the ridiculous advertisement he's put in the newspaper?"
"Of course! I don't altogether see why you are surprised."