‘If you had a leg to stand on, sir, I should be the last to let any consideration of Mr. Spalding Glenlyne’s feelings restrain us from taking action in this matter.’ ‘You don’t like Mr. Glenlyne?’ ‘Frankly, I detest him.’ ‘Is he a bad man?’ ‘No, Mr. Davoren; therein lies his most objectionable quality. He is a man who at once enforces respect and provokes detestation.’ ‘Paradoxical, rather.’ ‘I suppose so; but it is strictly true, nevertheless. Mr. Spalding Glenlyne is a man whom everybody acknowledges to be a useful member of society. He has improved the Glenlyne estate to an almost unprecedented extent. His turnips swell like nobody else’s turnips; his mangolds would have been big enough for the stables of Gargantua. One can only comfort oneself with the reflection that those big turnips are often watery. His cattle thrive as no one else’s cattle thrive. He is like the wicked man in the Psalms, everything flourishes with him. And when he dies there will be a splendid monument erected in his honour by public subscription. Yes, sir, people who abhorred him living will come down handsomely to pay him posthumous homage.’ ‘But a man like that must do some good in his generation,’ said Lucius; ‘he distributes money—he employs labour.’ ‘Yes, he is no doubt useful. He builds model cottages. His farm labourers are as sleek as his other cattle. Churches and schools spring up upon his estate. He brags and hectors intolerably, but I daresay he does good.’ ‘Let him retain his opportunities of usefulness then, Mr. Pullman. Were my case so strong as to make success almost a certainty, I think I would forego all chance of gaining it as willingly as I forego an attempt which you assure me would be futile. Let Mr. Spalding Glenlyne keep the estate which he is so well able to administer for the advantage of himself and other people. I will not seek to banish him and his children from the roof-tree that has sheltered them for ten prosperous years. The Glenlyne property would be but a white elephant for Lucille and me. My heart is in my profession, and I would infinitely rather succeed in that—even though success fell far short of hopes which may be somewhat too high—than grow the biggest turnips that ever sprouted from the soil of Norfolk. My dear girl has been acknowledged by her nearest surviving relation. That is enough for me.’ ‘Upon my word, Mr. Davoren, you’re a noble fellow,’ exclaimed the lawyer, melted by Lucius’s earnestness, by tones whose absolute truthfulness even an attorney could not doubt; ‘and I only wish your case were a trifle stronger, for it would give me pleasure to protect your interests. However, the case is weak, and I think your decision is as worldly wise as it is generous in spirit, and I can only say, stick to Miss Glenlyne. She’s a very old lady. She began life with seven hundred a year of her own, and has been saving money ever since she was twenty-one.’