"Not with my own hands, I assure you. At my time of life I am beyond that sort of thing."
"How dare you cause my fence to be removed?"
"Your fence? I was not aware it was your fence."
"You said it was my fence."
"Pardon me--never. I could not be guilty of such a perversion of the truth."
"Then whose fence was it?"
"It was mine. That is, it was my uncle's, and so, in the natural course of things, it became mine. It was like this. At one time, hereabouts, there was no visible boundary line between the two properties. I fancy it was a question of who should be at the expense of erecting one. Finally, my uncle loosed his purse-strings. He built this fence, with the wood out of his own plantations--even your friend Mr Baker will be able to tell you so much--the object being to keep out trespassers from Exham Park."
"Then, as you have removed your fence, I shall have to put up one of my own. I have no intention of allowing innocent persons, connected with Exham Park, to trespass--unconsciously--on land belonging to Oak Dene."
"Miss Arnott, permit your servant to present a humble petition."
He held his cap in his hands, suggesting deference; but in the eyes was that continual suspicion of laughter which made it difficult to tell when he was serious. It annoyed Miss Arnott to find that whenever she encountered that glimmer of merriment she found it so difficult to preserve the rigidity of decorum which she so ardently desired. Now, although she meant to be angry, and was angry, when she encountered that peculiar quality in his glance, it was really hard to be as angry as she wished.