"Oh, dear me, no. We have no pension list. Timmins has received very high wages. He has no doubt put by a nice little sum." "How long has he worked for--for us?" "I cannot tell without reference. I believe for twenty years or so. I can easily ascertain." Christopher stared out of the window for so long that the head clerk thought he had forgotten the matter and was disagreeably surprised when he spoke again. "I shall be at Stormly this week and will see if Timmins wishes to retire or not. You have no fault to find with him as a gardener, I suppose?" Mr. Clisson smiled. "A man who has served for twenty years will not be an indifferent workman sir. Timmins' accounts are exemplary." "The matter will stand over. Please see no one is dismissed under this age regulation without my knowledge. That is all now." His manner was as curt again as his father's. Mr. Clisson closed the door behind him with a vague feeling that the two years of his authority were but a dream and that the thin, square figure behind the office table had unaccountably widened out to the portly proportions of his old master. Christopher drew to him the pile of letters he had reserved and fell to work. He dared not allow himself to think yet, but now and again when his heart and soul ran counter to the tenor of what he read he put out his hand and touched the little green knife his father had handled for some unknown person's sake. CHAPTER XXXVII "I understand the fortune well enough now," said Christopher bitterly; "anyone can do it if they take one aspect of things and subordinate everybody and everything to it." He was at Marden again. It was a glorious spring evening and Caesar's couch was drawn up to the open window. Mr. Aston sat on the far side of it and Christopher leant against the window-frame smoking moodily. "You will dissipate it fast enough at the rate you are going," remarked Caesar. His eyes followed every movement of the young man with a jealous hunger. Christopher shook his head resignedly. "It can't be done. It goes on making itself. We are going to allow ourselves ten thousand a year. It's a fearful lot for two people"--his eyes wandered across the lawn to Patricia, where she sat with Renata--"or even three, but that's what it costs to live properly at Stormly, and the rest has to be used somehow." "How about Stormly Park? Do you and Patricia like the place?" He shook his head again. "I'm afraid we don't. We both feel we are living in an hotel. But I must be there on the spot, and she too. As it is, we have only had time to do so little." "Cottages, schools, hospitals," murmured Mr. Aston, softly.