When her ladyship walked through the place and looked at things,
a pale resignation expressed itself in the very droop of her
figure. When this one walked through the tumbled-down grape-houses,
potting-sheds and conservatories, she saw where glass was broken, where
benches had fallen and where roofs sagged and leaked. She inquired about
the heating apparatus and asked that she might see it. She asked about
the village and its resources, about labourers and their wages.
"As if," commented Kedgers mentally, "she was what Sir Nigel
is--leastways what he'd ought to be an' ain't."
She led the way back to the fallen wall and stood and looked at it.
"It's a beautiful old wall," she said. "It should be rebuilt with the
old brick. New would spoil it."
"Some of this is broken and crumbled away," said Kedgers, picking up a
piece to show it to her.
"Perhaps old brick could be bought somewhere," replied the young lady
speculatively. "One ought to be able to buy old brick in England, if one
is willing to pay for it."
Kedgers scratched his head and gazed at her in respectful wonder which
was almost trouble. Who was going to pay for things, and who was going
to look for things which were not on the spot? Enterprise like this was
not to be explained.
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