"My charmer? What are you driving at, Gaynor?"
"Oh, how innocent! Miss Lily Ludlow."
"I've met that Lewis there," returned Jim, with an air of bravado, though he flushed a little. "He's a regular stick."
"But it isn't Lewis. It's that Gerald Williamson,—a man about town. And the queer thing is that he thinks he has struck a fortune. Do you know, Jim? Is she to be the old lady's heir?"
Jim was silent. What should he say?
"Of course she is," said Weir. "That is—I think it depends on whether Mrs. Nicoll approves of the marriage."
He had turned very pale.
"Are you sure it is Williamson?" asked Jim.
"He announced it himself. My cousin heard him. And as for the old lady—the house is willed away. I've heard some talk; I can't just remember what. She's been shrewdly giving the impression."
"It would be a shame to sell her to the highest bidder! And Williamson's double her age. No sister of mine would be allowed to do such a thing. She can't love him! Why, she has only been driving out with him a few times."