"I'm thinking out a little light banter for Jordan. I want to know whether we can do better than twenty head of cattle and three fine stacks of hay."
"I suggest," said Peter, massively sarcastic, "that you make out a list of your hens and pigs and send it round the constituency."
Marbury considered this. "That, Peter, is an idea. I'll talk it over with the agent."
Peter flung up his hands in the gesture Marbury loved in him and always knew how to provoke.
"It's all damn nonsense," said Peter shortly.
"Jordan calls it democracy."
"Politics!" Peter exclaimed, with his nose in the air.
"I've told you before, Peter, not to despise politics. It's ignorant. We'll go into the garden."
They walked on the terrace and found Haversham in the portable hut where he usually spent the day. He had been ordered by the doctors to live out of doors. Here he wrote letters, interviewed his tenants, and ordered the affairs of his estate and fortune. He was seldom alone, unless he wished it, for his friends treasured every moment they were able to spend with him.