Читать книгу The Black онлайн

25 страница из 105

"I'm not thinking about your spiritual future," said Mr. Hamon. "I'm thinking about Creith."

"The title goes to Joan—it descends that way in our family," said his lordship, biting the end of a pen-holder. "But why bother me about these details, my dear fellow? If Joan wants to preserve the estate she'll marry you, and I've no objection. We've had some devilish queer people in our family before, and I daresay we shall go on having devilish queer people. My great great grandmother had a wooden leg."

Mr. Ralph Hamon overlooked the uncomplimentary reference, and was not prepared to encourage a discussion on the deficiencies of Lord Creith's ancestors.

"If Joan doesn't want to marry me?" he said. "I suppose you've some influence?"

Lord Creith took off his glasses deliberately.

"With Joan? Bless your life, she doesn't take the slightest notice of anything I say! And very properly. I'm about the worst adviser that anybody could have. She'll do what she likes. Her dear and blessed mother was the same. Don't bother me now, my dear good fellow."