"My letters are not important. Of course I will let you. I am quite at your disposal," Edward said; but there was still a shade of annoyance—weariness—as at a person importunate who would not take a hint and convey himself away.
"I wanted to speak to you about the subject of our conversation yesterday."
"Yes, which was that?"
"It was important enough to have remained in my memory," said Roland, with a little offence, feeling himself put in the wrong from the beginning. "I mean the proposals we were discussing—your ideas on the subject of the——"
"Oh that! but you put a stop to all my ideas, Harry and you in your wisdom. I thought you must have meant that little matter about Aunt Catherine's books. Yes, it seemed to me, so far as my lights went, that the proposals were very promising: and I might have stood out against Harry, who will never set the Thames on fire; till you came down upon me with your heavy guns—you whom I expected to be on my side."
"Then you have really given it up?" cried Roland, with a sigh of relief.
"Didn't you mean me to do so? That is what I thought, at all events. You were so determined about it, that I really don't see what else I could have done, unless," he said, with a smile, "I had been a capitalist, and completely independent, as you said."
"I am most thankful to hear it, Vernon. I had not been able to divest myself of the idea that you were still hankering after it," said Roland; "and I came, intending to say to you, that if your heart was really set upon it—rather than that you should put yourself into hands, perhaps not so scrupulous——"
"Ah! I see: rather than that a rival should get the business—let us speak plainly," said Edward, with a pale smile.
"That is not speaking plainly. It is altogether different from my meaning; but take it so, if you please. I am glad to know that there is no necessity for my intrusion anyhow," Roland said; and then there was a little pause.