“Now,” he said, after a long, brooding pause, “you know the depth of my penitence. We’ll talk about something else.”
“We will,” Angela said briskly, but her voice shook. “You say you are going to succeed at the aircraft thing yet. Do you know how you are going to do it?”
“No,” Stephen said gruffly.
“Well, then, I do. We’ve planned it all—Hugh and I.”
Stephen sat up in the bed, he shot her a glance, and then fixed his eyes on his brother. Hugh nodded and went horribly red.
“You are going to do it in South America. That’s the place, where you won’t be overlooked, and half your inventions and things stolen before you’ve perfected them. It’s going to be an enormous thing, our firm—just we three partners. Your brains, your control, my money—and a little from Hugh, and your own too, of course—and all ‘Bransby’s,’ influence and co-operation back of us. It will need a rare lot of capital. Well, it’s ready.”
Stephen paid no attention to her, but he said to his brother—
“Do you mean it?”
“Yes, Stevie—and jolly glad, and pleased—”
Stephen silenced him with a gesture. “Well, I don’t. I’d die first.”