The Squire struck the arm of his chair with a long and bony hand.

'Why, it's only because they _must_!' said the girl half scornfully,
her breath fluttering. 'Think what other people put up with,
father. And what they do! And we do _nothing_!'

Every word was said with difficulty, torn out of her by the shock of
her father's statement. The Squire stared at her threateningly a
little, then quieted down. He did not want a wrangle with Pamela, to
whom in general he was not unkind, while keeping a strict rule over
her.

'Do nothing? What should we do? As if the war did not bleed us at
every turn already. I warn you all I shan't be able to pay the
income tax next year. Mannering will be sold up.' And thrusting his
hands again into his pockets, he looked gloomily before him, over a
piece of ill-kept garden, to the sloping park and blue interlacing
hills that filled the distance.

Elizabeth Bremerton put down her teacup, glanced at the father and
daughter, and went discreetly away, back to the library and her
work.

Pamela hesitated a little, but at last moved nearer to him, and put
a hand on his arm.

'Father! I dreadfully want you to let me do something!'

'Eh, what?' said Mannering, rousing himself. 'Don't try and coax me,