"Of course I had to tell them down there." "Was papa angry?" "He only said that if you chose to make such a fool of yourself, he would do nothing for you--in the way of money." "George does not think of that in the least." "People must eat, you know." "Ah; that would make no difference either to him or to me. We must wait, that's all. I do not think it would make me unhappy to wait till I died, if he only were content to wait also. But was papa so very angry?" "He wasn't so very angry,--only angry. I was obliged to tell him; but I said as little to him as possible because he is ill. Somebody else made herself disagreeable." "Did you tell her?" "I was determined to tell her;--so that she should not turn round upon me afterwards and say that I had deceived her. I had made a promise to my father." "Oh, John, I am so sorry." "There is no use in crying after spilt milk. A promise to my father she would of course take as a promise to her, and it would have been flung in my face." "She will do so now." "Oh, yes;--but I can fight the battle better, having told her everything." "Was she disagreeable?" "Abominable! She mixed you up with Marion Fay, and really showed more readiness than I gave her credit for in what she said. Of course she got the better of me. She could call me a liar and a fool to my face, and I could not retaliate. But there's a row in the house which makes everything wretched there." "Another row?" "You are forgotten in this new row,--and so am I. George Roden and Marion Fay are nothing in comparison with poor Mr. Greenwood. He has been committing horrible offences, and is to be turned out. He swears he won't go, and my father is determined he shall. Mr. Roberts has been called in, and there is a question whether Harris shall not put him on gradually diminished rations till he be starved into surrender. He's to have £200 a year if he goes, but he says that it is not enough for him." "Would it be much?" "Considering that he likes to have everything of the very best I do not think it would. He would probably have to go to prison or else hang himself." "Won't it be rather hard upon him?" "I think it will. I don't know what it is that makes the governor so hard to him. I begged and prayed for another hundred a year as though he were the dearest friend I had in the world; but I couldn't turn the governor an inch. I don't think I ever disliked any one so much in the world as I do Mr. Greenwood." "Not Mr. Crocker?" she asked. "Poor Crocker! I love Crocker, in comparison. There is a delightful pachydermatousness about Crocker which is almost heroic. But I hate Mr. Greenwood, if it be in my nature to hate any one. It is not only that he insults me, but he looks at me as though he would take me by the throat and strangle me if he could. But still I will add the other hundred a year out of my own pocket, because I think he is being treated hardly. Only I must do it on the sly." "But Lady Kingsbury is still fond of him?"