Then she gasped.
The will in Billy's favour was dated a week earlier than the one they
had found in the secret drawer. It was worthless, mere waste paper. At
the last Frederick R. Woods's pride had conquered his love.
"Oh, the horrid old man!" Margaret wailed; "he's left me everything he
had! How _dare_ he disinherit Billy! I call it rank impertinence in
him. Oh, boy dear, dear, _dear_ boy!" Miss Hugonin crooned, in an
ecstacy of tenderness and woe. "He found this first will in one of the
other drawers, and thought _he_ was the rich one, and came in a great
whirl of joy to ask me to marry him, and I was horrid to him! Oh, what
a mess I've made of it! I've called him a fortune-hunter, and I've
told him I love another man, and he'll never, never ask me to marry
him now. And I love him, I worship him, I adore him! And if only
I were poor--"
Ensued a silence. Margaret lifted the two wills, scrutinised them
closely, and then looked at the fire, interrogatively.
"It's penal servitude for quite a number of years," she said. "But,
then, he really _couldn't_ tell any one, you know.
Pages:
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113