“Yes, I know,” said William, with a dry carelessness.
“Ah! well, yes—I dare say. A good many people—it’s an old place, rather—do know something about Revington.”
“Especially those who have lived the greater part of their lives within half a mile of it,” rejoined William.
“Ah, ha!—yes; to be sure; I forgot you have been so constantly at Gilroyd. What a nice little bit of a thing it is. I could fancy growing quite in love with it—isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said William, shortly, and filled his glass, and drank it in a hurry. He fancied that Trevor was about to come to the point.
CHAPTER XVI.
OVER THEIR CLARET
