Carew?"
"I have seen neither of them since I was staying at Crompton three
months ago or so," said Richard, coolly. "They were well enough then,
though the Squire was doing his best, as usual, to exhaust his
constitution and his purse; and the chaplain, as usual, also, was making
things as straight as he could, and putting the skid on where he dared.
But you know all about that, Mr. Trevethick, I dare say, almost as well
as I do. I am sorry you won't take another glass of wine."
"I think I will, if you permit me to change my mind, Sir," said the
other, suiting the action to the word. "Now, the idea of your being so
intimate with Parson Whymper, and having staid at Squire Carew's! Why,
the Squire's my landlord, and owns all about here--leastway, short of
Dunloppel. It's unlucky that this copper should have cropped out just
beyond him, as it were."
"There is no mine here belonging to him then, eh?"
"Well, no, Sir; not, properly speaking, a mine, there ain't;" and the
well-practiced hand of the landlord shook as he put down the glass, so
that it clanked against the bottle.
Richard Yorke laughed a short dry laugh, apparently at some reflection
of his own.
"Well, I'm sorry you've got your friend, landlord, and therefore can not
have a chat with me; for it is evident we should find something to talk
about together.
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