"Oh, till Goodwood always," said Phil. "Nell's looking forward to it, and there's generally some good things just at the end when the heavy people have gone away; but I thought you might not care to stay so long."
"I came not for town, but for Elinor, Philip."
"Exactly so. But don't you think Elinor has shown herself quite able to take care of herself—not to say that she has me? It's a thousand pities to keep you from the country which you prefer, especially as, after all, Nell can be so little with you."
"It would be much better for her at present, Philip, to come with me, and rest at home, while you go to Goodwood. For the sake of the future you ought to persuade her to do it."
"I daresay. Try yourself to persuade her to leave me. She won't, you know. But why should you bore yourself to death staying on here? You don't like it, and nobody——"
"Wants me, you mean, Philip."
"I never said anything so dashed straightforward. I am not a chap of that kind. But what I say is, it's a shame to keep you hanging on, disturbed in your rest and all that sort of thing. That noisy beggar, Dismar, that came in with us last night must have woke you up with his idiotic bellowing."
"It doesn't matter for me; but Elinor, Philip. It does matter for your wife. If her rest is broken it will react upon her in every way. I wish you would consent to forego those visitors in the middle of the night."
He looked at her with a sort of satirical indifference. "Sorry I can't oblige you," he said. "When a girl's friends fork out handsomely a man has some reason for paying a little attention. But when there's nothing, or next to nothing, on her side, why of course he must pick up a little where he can, as much for her sake as his own."
"Pick up a little!" said Mrs. Dennistoun.