"No, no," he said, "it is not so bad as that. You jump to conclusions,
but really, if you do not mind, I am very tired, and should like to go
to bed."

"Father, what is the use of trying to shirk the thing just because it
is disagreeable?" she asked earnestly. "Do you suppose that it is more
pleasant to me to talk about it than it is for you? I know that you
are not to blame about it. I know that dear James was very thoughtless
and extravagant, and that the times are crushing. But to go on like
this is only to go to ruin. It would be better for us to live in a
cottage on a couple of hundred a year than to try to keep our heads
above water here, which we cannot do. Sooner or later these people,
Quest, or whoever they are, will want their money back, and then, if
they cannot have it, they will sell the place over our heads. I
believe that man Quest wants to get it himself--that is what I believe
--and set up as a country gentleman. Father, I know it is a dreadful
thing to say, but we ought to leave Honham."

"Leave Honham!" said the old gentleman, jumping up in his agitation;
"what nonsense you talk, Ida. How can I leave Honham? It would kill me
at my age. How can I do it? And, besides, who is to look after the
farms and all the business? No, no, we must hang on and trust to
Providence. Things may come round, something may happen, one can never
tell in this world."

"If we do not leave Honham, then Honham will leave us," answered his
daughter, with conviction. "I do not believe in chances. Chances
always go the wrong way--against those who are looking for them. We
shall be absolutely ruined, that is all."