Staplewood, when it is yours: I shall be dead, so I shan’t know.”
“No, sir: I shan’t do that,” Philip said.
“Well, I can’t deny that I shall like to think that when I’ve cocked up my toes there will still be a Broome at Staplewood,” said Sir Timothy, more cheerfully. “You will have to decide both of you, whether you will come to live here immediately, or wait until I’m dead. I shan’t last for many more years, and I no longer have the health or the strength to manage my estates. You could do it, and I think it would be wise of you not to put off what I feel sure you think of as the evil day! However, I don’t mean to press you, and we won’t talk of it any more tonight.” He smiled at Kate. “Drink up your wine, my pretty! I think we won’t discuss anything that has happened today. We shall eat our dinner, and after that I shall challenge you to a rubber of piquet…’
