"Eighty pounds a year, sir, I was thinking of, to begin with," he answered.
The firm of Mowbray and Cousins acted for most of the older inhabitants of Millsborough, and Mrs. Newt was amongst them. Mr. Mowbray had had one or two interviews with Anthony in connection with his aunt's affairs and had formed a high opinion of his acumen and shrewdness. The price he had just got his aunt for her bit of land in Moor End Lane, and the way he had played one would-be purchaser against another had, in particular, suggested to Mr. Mowbray's thinking a touch of genius.
"We'll say a hundred," said Mr. Mowbray, "to begin with. What happens afterwards will depend upon yourself."
"It's awfully kind of you, sir," said Anthony. "I won't try to thank you—in words."
He had been sure that Mr. Mowbray would insist upon his own figure. Mr. Mowbray liked doing fine, generous things that commanded admiration. But he was really grateful.
Mr. Mowbray had risen. He laid a kindly hand on Anthony's shoulder.
"I should like you to get on and be helpful to me," he said. "Edward's a dreamer, as you know.
