Well, I became a parson, and for four years I had a curacy at a town called Kingston, in Herefordshire, not a bad sort of little town--perhaps you happen to know it.

While I was there, my father, who was getting beyond himself, took to speculating.

He built a row of villas at Leominster, or at least he lent a lawyer the money to build them, and when they were built nobody would hire them.

It broke my father; he was ruined over those villas.

I have always hated the sight of a villa ever since, Mr.Bingham.And shortly afterwards he died, as near bankruptcy as a man's nose is to his mouth.
"After that I was offered this living, L150 a year it was at the best, and like a fool I took it.