“Why by the South-Western. They’ll send to meet him.”
Brookenham appeared for a moment to view this statement in the dry light of experience. “They’ll only send if there are others too.”
“Of course then there’ll be others—lots. The more the better for Harold.”
This young man’s father was silent a little. “Perhaps—if they don’t play high.”
“Ah,” said his mother, “however Harold plays he has a way of winning.”
“He has a way too of being a hopeless ass. What I meant was how he comes there at all,” Edward explained.
“Why as any one comes—by being invited. She wrote to him—weeks ago.”
Brookenham just traceably took this in, but to what profit was not calculable. “To Harold? Very good-natured.” He had another short reflexion, after which he continued: “If they don’t send he’ll be in for five miles in a fly—and the man will see that he gets his money.”
“They WILL send—after her note.”
“Did it say so?”