"You're talking rank immorality," he said almost good-humouredly.
Mr. Pendyce rose.
"Marry her!" he cried. "What on earth--that's worse than all--the very
thing we're trying to prevent! We've been here, father and son--father
and son--for generations!"
"All the more shame," burst out Gregory, "if you can't stand by a woman
at the end of them----!"
Mr. Paramor made a gesture of reproof.
"There's moderation in all things," he said. "Are you sure that Mrs.
Bellew requires protection? If you are right, I agree; but are you
right?"
"I will answer for it," said Gregory.
Mr. Paramor paused a full minute with his head resting on his hand.
"I am sorry," he said at last, "I must trust to my own judgment."
The Squire looked up.
"If the worst comes to the worst, can I cut the entail, Paramor?"
"No."
"What? But that's all wrong--that's----"
"You can't have it both ways," said Mr. Paramor.
The Squire looked at him dubiously, then blurted out:
"If I choose to leave him nothing but the estate, he'll soon find
himself a beggar. I beg your pardon, gentlemen; fill your glasses! I'm
forgetting everything!"
The Rector filled his glass.
"I've said nothing so far," he began; "I don't feel that it's my
business. My conviction is that there's far too much divorce nowadays.
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