“All the same,” suggested Palliser, tolerantly, “you were immensely generous. She wasn’t entitled to expect it, you know.”
“She didn’t expect anything, not a darned thing,” said Tembarom. “That was what hit me.”
Palliser smiled a cold, amiable smile.
“Do you purpose to provide for the future of all your indigent relatives even to the third and fourth generation, my dear chap?” he inquired.
“I won’t refuse till I’m asked, anyhow,” was the answer.
“Asked!” Palliser repeated. “I’m one of them, you know, and Lady Mallowe is another. There are lots of us, when we come out of our holes. If it’s only a matter of asking, we might all descend on you.”
Tembarom, smiling, wondered whether they hadn’t descended already, and whether the descent had so far been all that they had anticipated.
Palliser strolled down his opened avenue with an incidental air which was entirely creditable to his training of himself. His host acknowledged that much.
“You are too generous,” said Palliser. “You are the sort of fellow who will always need all he has, and more. The way you go among the villagers! You think you merely slouch about and keep it quiet, but you don’t. You’ve set an example no other landowner can expect to live up to. It’s too lavish. It’s pernicious, dear chap. I know all about the cottage you are doing over for Pearson and his bride. You had better invest in the Cedric.”
Palliser had reason to be so much more eager than he professed to be that momentarily he swerved, despite himself, and ceased to be casual.