because she's ripe for the taking.
There's no doubt about that. But what if she doesn't want to live here and support your ruin? What if she were to decide we should take up residence in Milton Place? It's a very nice house that, very well kept, not a rambling mausoleum (like this. So then what about it?''The same about it as if she decided to live here, you'll have control of her money, and I think you'll just be in time because there's a 94law afoot to give women rights to what's considered their own. So whatever there is I'll expect you to use it in the right way.''Well-' Lionel stepped back and as he did so he tweeked each side of his small moustache with his forefinger. 'That remains to be seen, Father,' he said. That remains to be seen.'When he, too, left the room, William Filmore almost groped his way to the leather chair from which he had so recently risen and, dropping into it, he lay back and put his hand to his brow as he asked himself, how was it that one could dislike the flesh and blood that was part of one, that one had made? Well, perhaps he was right, he was part of himself in many ways. But it was too late now for self-recrimination; he hadn't a long time to run; not the way he was feeling now, he hadn't. Then there was Doug. That strip of an individual. All the Filmores had been big-made, burly types. The gallery and the staircase showed them for two hundred years back. There wasn't a fleshless one among them; yet, there he was, the second son, who at twenty-five still had on him a body that made him look like a strip of a 95boy. And just five-foot six tall. That wasn't his family. But what had he just done? He had shown his big burly handsome brother that he, at least, could earn a living.Strange that he had never bothered with Douglas; but there had seemed to be nothing to bother with in this undersized Filmore man. For a moment there intruded into his thoughts a deep sense of loss that in his old and shortening age he might have experienced a sense of friendship and perhaps comfort through this unusual descendant in the Filmore clan. But it was too late now.As he closed his eyes his thoughts took him back to seeing himself standing by the bedside of his dying father, whose last words were, 'Remember, Will, everything in life must be paid for.' And yes, his father had certainly paid, through a crippling and lingering disease, a very high price for what he had called the natural sin of infidelity.
'Have you not found out yet how the land lies?''Father.' Lionel closed his eyes for a moment and brought his jaws tightly together before he said slowly, 'What do you want me to do? Go to the other one and say, what's her share in all this?''I don't see why not. You could put it over in a diplomatic way, because she seems to be the working end of the pair. She seems to make the money and your dear Victoria to spend it, if her dress is anything to go by, which to my mind points to the fact she must have the bigger share in the whole concern. You know, the maids here would turn out better dressed than the other one, flat as a pancake and utterly colourless. Look at her at the last do: not a frill or a bit of ruch-97ing to be seen on her anywhere. Putty coloured she was from head to foot, while the other one was decked out like a duchess. Well, it speaks for itself, doesn't it? Have you ever spoken about money to her?''Yes, once, and her answer was to laugh and say, "Well, you must know I'm just a poor girl."''Poor girl! They were brothers, weren't they, the two fathers?''Yes. But it seems her father died when she was quite young; and from the little I can gather they were all living together at the time, the two brothers and their families.''Families, you say? Are there any more besides the two women?''No. No, they were the only children.''Well, all I can say is you should do something before the marriage. You've got two weeks.''What do you expect me to do, Father? Go and ask her if she's going to bring a dowry
There's no doubt about that. But what if she doesn't want to live here and support your ruin? What if she were to decide we should take up residence in Milton Place? It's a very nice house that, very well kept, not a rambling mausoleum (like this. So then what about it?''The same about it as if she decided to live here, you'll have control of her money, and I think you'll just be in time because there's a 94law afoot to give women rights to what's considered their own. So whatever there is I'll expect you to use it in the right way.''Well-' Lionel stepped back and as he did so he tweeked each side of his small moustache with his forefinger. 'That remains to be seen, Father,' he said. That remains to be seen.'When he, too, left the room, William Filmore almost groped his way to the leather chair from which he had so recently risen and, dropping into it, he lay back and put his hand to his brow as he asked himself, how was it that one could dislike the flesh and blood that was part of one, that one had made? Well, perhaps he was right, he was part of himself in many ways. But it was too late now for self-recrimination; he hadn't a long time to run; not the way he was feeling now, he hadn't. Then there was Doug. That strip of an individual. All the Filmores had been big-made, burly types. The gallery and the staircase showed them for two hundred years back. There wasn't a fleshless one among them; yet, there he was, the second son, who at twenty-five still had on him a body that made him look like a strip of a 95boy. And just five-foot six tall. That wasn't his family. But what had he just done? He had shown his big burly handsome brother that he, at least, could earn a living.Strange that he had never bothered with Douglas; but there had seemed to be nothing to bother with in this undersized Filmore man. For a moment there intruded into his thoughts a deep sense of loss that in his old and shortening age he might have experienced a sense of friendship and perhaps comfort through this unusual descendant in the Filmore clan. But it was too late now.As he closed his eyes his thoughts took him back to seeing himself standing by the bedside of his dying father, whose last words were, 'Remember, Will, everything in life must be paid for.' And yes, his father had certainly paid, through a crippling and lingering disease, a very high price for what he had called the natural sin of infidelity.
'Have you not found out yet how the land lies?''Father.' Lionel closed his eyes for a moment and brought his jaws tightly together before he said slowly, 'What do you want me to do? Go to the other one and say, what's her share in all this?''I don't see why not. You could put it over in a diplomatic way, because she seems to be the working end of the pair. She seems to make the money and your dear Victoria to spend it, if her dress is anything to go by, which to my mind points to the fact she must have the bigger share in the whole concern. You know, the maids here would turn out better dressed than the other one, flat as a pancake and utterly colourless. Look at her at the last do: not a frill or a bit of ruch-97ing to be seen on her anywhere. Putty coloured she was from head to foot, while the other one was decked out like a duchess. Well, it speaks for itself, doesn't it? Have you ever spoken about money to her?''Yes, once, and her answer was to laugh and say, "Well, you must know I'm just a poor girl."''Poor girl! They were brothers, weren't they, the two fathers?''Yes. But it seems her father died when she was quite young; and from the little I can gather they were all living together at the time, the two brothers and their families.''Families, you say? Are there any more besides the two women?''No. No, they were the only children.''Well, all I can say is you should do something before the marriage. You've got two weeks.''What do you expect me to do, Father? Go and ask her if she's going to bring a dowry
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