“If the worst comes to the worst, can I cut the entail, Paramor?”
“No.”
“What? But that's all wrong—that's——”
“You can't have it both ways,” said Mr. Paramor.
The Squire looked at him dubiously, then blurted out:
“If I choose to leave him nothing but the estate, he'll soon find himself a beggar. I beg your pardon, gentlemen; fill your glasses! I'm forgetting everything!”
The Rector filled his glass.
“I've said nothing so far,” he began; “I don't feel that it's my business. My conviction is that there's far too much divorce nowadays. Let this woman go back to her husband, and let him show her where she's to blame”—his voice and his eyes hardened—“then let them forgive each other like Christians. You talk,” he said to Gregory, “about standing up for the woman. I've no patience with that; it's the way immorality's fostered in these days. I raise my voice against this sentimentalism. I always have, and I always shall!”
Gregory jumped to his feet.
“I've told you once before,” he said, “that you were indelicate; I tell you so again.”