Page:Possession (Roche, February 1923).pdf/199

 She flushed red. "Oh, I didn't mean that. I am worrying about my father. You see, he put everything he had into this place and now he's obliged to sell it just to meet his obligations. I am afraid there won't be much left."

Edmund coloured also. "I had no idea of such a thing. I thought of your father as absolutely secure—established here permanently. He gives one that feeling."

"I know. I really believe that if he were walking in the gutter carrying a sandwich-board, he would wear that look of well-being, and people would say—'What a dashing fellow!

"But I am awfully sorry. Can nothing be done?"

"Oh, no. It's all over. We are to have a sale on the twelfth of September. Shall you be here till then?"

"Yes. I have a decent leave this time. But, I say, does this mean that you must move away from here?"

"Thank heaven, no. We are going to keep a cottage—that one right on the shore—it has been used by Carss, one of the gardeners. It has a pretty garden, a few fruit trees, and the tiniest stable. Then, of course, we shall keep our dogs. Our good old cook is going with us, and we are to have one cow. Perhaps I shall have to milk. Can't you see me as a strapping milkmaid?" She spoke quickly, and with an air of suppressed excitement.

Edmund's mobile face was full of sympathy. "Strange," he murmured. "Derek did not say a word about this to me."

"Oh, I suppose not. He has his own affairs to contemplate." There was bitterness in her voice.

"Well, I must say they are in a sorry mess. How a fastidious chap like he is can ever hit it off with that girl—"

Grace sharply pressed the finger that had been torn by the brier. "It hurts," she explained.

"Too bad. Take the handkerchief off and let me see it. Maybe a bit of thorn is sticking in it."