“I’m not sure,” said Mary—“that even that other plan you spoke of wouldn’t be best—better than selling everything, I mean. Couldn’t you administer the estate through a bailiff or trustee?”
“If my father and Peter couldn’t make it pay, what would be the result of an absentee landlord?—the place wouldn’t stand it. We’d bust. No, in fairness to the land it ought to go back to the small landlords—that’s its only chance of recovery. I’m not doing this only for our own sakes, but for the sake of the land and the people it ought to belong to.”
“I think you’re a traitor,” said Rose—“a traitor to your house.”
“I wish I was dead,” cried Doris. “First Father—then everything else.... I’ve nothing to live for now.”
“Why, you’ve got me,” said Lady Alard—“You’ll come with me, Doris. I think I shall go to Worthing—it’s more bracing than the coast here. Gervase, do you think the dining-room sideboard would fit into a smaller house?”
“Oh, Father,” sobbed Doris—“Oh, Father—oh, Peter.... What would you have done if you had known how it was going to end?”
THE END
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
- Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in spelling.
- Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.