And then, of course, she would marry Frank Randall; and all the money which he, Stephen, had amassed, by the sacrifice of every pleasure in life, would enrich that supercilious young coxcomb.
It was a hard thing to think of, and Stephen pondered upon the expediency of letting off Wyncomb Farm, and sinking all his savings in the purchase of an annuity.

He could not bring himself to contemplate selling the house and lands that had belonged to his race for so many generations.

He clung to the estate, not from any romantic reverence for the past, not from any sentimental associations connected with those who had gone before him, but from the mere force of habit, which rendered this grim ugly old house and these flat shelterless fields dearer to him than all the rest of the universe.

He was a man to whom to part with anything was agony; and if he loved anything in the world, he loved Wyncomb.

The possession of the place had given him importance for twenty years past.
He could not fancy himself unconnected with Wyncomb.