Nigel hesitated. He could not bring himself to tell even this brother of his sacred, half-formed plans.
"You won't miss me," he faltered.
"Won't miss you! Won't miss you!—what the devil d'you mean?"
"I'm no use on the farm—I laze and I slack. You'll get on much better without me."
"Gammon! You're tumbling into it nicely, and if you go, I'll have to hire a man—and there'll be the expense of your keep in London. No, no, old chap—that won't wash."
"Wait till you've tried it."
"Haven't I been trying it for three years? Besides, my boy, this is only beating round the bush. The main fact is that Janey and I would miss you simply damnably."
"Not really," said Nigel, his mouth drooping with a great tenderness, "you'd soon feel the relief of being rid of me and my tantrums."
There was a knock at the door.