"By all means."
"There are a good many other things," said Tatham—uncertainly—as he lingered, hat in hand—"that you and I might discuss—Mainstairs, for instance! I ought to tell you that my mother has just sent two nurses there. The condition of things is simply appalling."
Faversham straightened his tall figure.
"Mainstairs is a deadlock. Mr. Melrose won't repair the cottages. He intends to pull them down. He has given the people notice, and he is receiving no rent. They won't go. I suppose the next step will be to apply for an ejectment order. Meanwhile the people stay at their own peril. There you have the whole thing."
"I hear the children are dying like flies."
"I can do nothing," said Faversham.
Again a shock of antagonism passed through the two men. "Yes, you can!" thought Tatham; "you can resign your fat post, and your expectations, and put the screw on the old man, that's what you could do." Aloud he said:
"A couple of thousand pounds, according to Undershaw, would do the job.
If you succeed in forcing them out, where are they to go?"
"That's not our affair."
Tatham caught up his hat and stick, and abruptly departed; reflecting indeed when he reached the street, that he had not been the most diplomatic of ambassadors on Mrs. Melrose's behalf.