“Well, don't you think so?”
“Does Charles think so?”
“Ask him.”
“William!”
“Yes.”
“I don't like London. I like here, and I like Cotton, and I like home pretty well, and I love Pendridny—and—I like Ravensham.”
“His lordship is going to Ravensham to-day on his way up, I heard say.”
“Oh! then he'll see great-granny. William——”
“Here's Miss Wallace.”
From the doorway a lady with a broad pale patient face said: