Sybil laughed.
' How odd you are!' she said; ' they are fast and convenient. But about Mr. Bilton: he is a very remarkable man. He can do anything he chooses to do, and whatever he chooses to do turns into gold. He owns half the theatres in New York; he has a big publishing business there; he furnishes houses for people; he has made a fortune on the Stock Exchange. Some of those Americans are like spiders sitting in the middle of their webs, which extend in all directions, and whatever wind blows, it blows some fly into their meshes. Just as a great artist like Michael Angelo can write a sonnet, or hew a statue out of the marble, or paint a picture, fitting the artistic sense like a handle to any knife, so with a man like him. He sees money everywhere. He is very efficient.'
' Is he quite unscrupulous?' asked Judy.
' Not unscrupulous exactly, but relentless; that is the spirit of America: it fascinates me, and it repels me. Some of them remind me of destiny—Mr. Palmer does. By the way, he asked me, when I was over there, if Molesworth was for sale. Have you heard anything about it?'
' Yes; Ginger told me that negotiations were going on. He didn't know, nor did Gallio, who the possible purchaser was. No doubt it was Mr. Palmer.'
Sybil put her head on one side, considering.
' What was the price?' she asked.
' Two hundred thousand.'
' Of course, money does not mean anything particular to the Palmers,' she said; ' but I rather wonder why they bought it. Mr. Palmer has been looking out for an English house, I know, but I should have thought Molesworth was too remote.'
' I expect they paid for the spirit of ancestry which clings to the place,' said Judy. ' Molesworth seemed to me, the only time I saw it, to be the most typically English house
