“I'm not a Puritan, Paramor; I dare say there are allowances to be made for George. I don't even object to the woman herself; she may be too good for Bellew; she must be too good for a fellow like that! But for George to marry her would be ruination. Look at Lady Rose's case! Anyone but a star-gazing fellow like Vigil must see that! It's taboo! It's sheer taboo! And think--think of my--my grandson! No, no, Paramor; no, no, by God!” The Squire covered his eyes with his hand. Mr. Paramor, who had no son himself, answered with feeling: “Now, now, old fellow; it won't come to that!” “God knows what it will come to, Paramor! My nerve's shaken! You know yourself that if there's a divorce he'll be bound to marry her!” To this Mr. Paramor made no reply, but pressed his lips together. “There's your poor dog whining,” he said. And without waiting for permission he opened the door. Mrs. Pendyce and the spaniel John came in. The Squire looked up and frowned. The spaniel John, panting with delight, rubbed against him. 'I have been through torment, master,' he seemed to say. 'A second separation at present is not possible for me!' Mrs. Pendyce stood waiting silently, and Mr. Paramor addressed himself to her. “You can do more than any of us, Mrs. Pendyce, both with George and with this man Bellew--and, if I am not mistaken, with his wife.” The Squire broke in: “Don't think that I'll have any humble pie eaten to that fellow Bellew!” The look Mr. Paramor gave him at those words, was like that of a doctor diagnosing a disease. Yet there was nothing in the expression of the Squire's face with its thin grey whiskers and moustache, its twist to the left, its swan-like eyes, decided jaw, and sloping brow, different from what this idea might bring on the face of any country gentleman. Mrs. Pendyce said eagerly “Oh, Mr. Paramor, if I could only see George!” She longed so for a sight of her son that her thoughts carried her no further. “See him!” cried the Squire. “You'll go on spoiling him till he's disgraced us all!” Mrs. Pendyce turned from her husband to his solicitor. Excitement had fixed an unwonted colour in her cheeks; her lips twitched as if she wished to speak. Mr. Paramor answered for her: “No, Pendyce; if George is spoilt, the system is to blame.” “System!” said the Squire. “I've never had a system for him. I'm no believer in systems! I don't know what you're talking of. I have another son, thank God!” Mrs. Pendyce took a step forward. “Horace,” she said, “you would never----” Mr. Pendyce turned from his wife, and said sharply: “Paramor, are you sure I can't cut the entail?” “As sure,” said Mr. Paramor, “as I sit here!” CHAPTER IX DEFINITION OF “PENDYCITIS”