She raised her eyes quickly to his in a question, and he looked out of the window.
“I told him I wouldn’t hear of it.”
“And then?”
“He went off. I didn’t see him till dinner that night.”
“But where did he go?”
“Go? How should I know where he went? I know where he will go, and that’s to the deuce,” said the Squire, beginning to march about the room. “The question isn’t where he went, but where he is now. That is the point of it, and I am surprised that you, Harriet, don’t see it. I shouldn’t wonder if he were sitting there with his arm round the girl’s waist at this moment.”
“At Crishowell? I know Mr. Lewis would never allow that.”
“Allow it? Who’d ask him to allow it, I should like to know? They needn’t be under Lewis’ nose. He’s there, you take my word for it.” At every sentence the Squire’s voice rose. “I’m not going to stand such a thing any more. It’s time somebody did something. What’s the use of our sitting here with our hands before us like so many fools, eh?”
“What shall you do? You see, now he is his own master,” said Lady Harriet, sighing.
“His own master? I’ll show him whether he is his own master or not! You know as well as I do that there is no entail on Waterchurch. I’ll just bring that to his notice. ‘My good boy,’ I’ll say, ‘you bring this upstart of a girl here and you’ll see whether there’s an entail or not!’ That’ll bring him round.”