'You must come to stay with me, papa, every year.'
'My love, that kind of place would be the death of me, except for a week in October. I suppose there are plenty of pheasants?'
'I dare say, papa. If not, we'll order some.'
'Well, it might have been worse,' sighed Sir Nugent.
'You'll let Viola live with me when I am married, papa, won't you?' pleaded Madge, coaxingly, as if she were asking a tremendous favour.
'My dear child, with all my heart,' replied her father, with amiable promptitude. 'Where could she be so well off? In that case I shall give up housekeeping as soon as you are married. This house has always been a plague to me, taxes, repairs, no end of worry. I used to pay a hundred and fifty pounds a year for my rooms in Jermyn Street, and the business was settled. Bless you, my darling. You have always been a comfort to your poor old father.'
And thus blandly, with an air of self-sacrifice, did Sir Nugent Bellingham wash his hands of his two daughters.