His phrase seemed to give Cecily no enlightenment.
"Settles itself?" she repeated.
"Subject to formal proof, I mean, and in the absence of opposition from" (he hesitated a second) "—from Mr Tristram, which can't be anticipated now, you will be put into possession of the estates and the title." He pointed to Harry's letter which was still in her hands. "You see what he himself calls you there, Miss Gainsborough."
She made no answer. With another glance at Neeld, Iver pushed back his chair and rose. Neeld followed his example. They felt that the interview had better end. Duplay did not move, and Cecily stood where she was. She seemed to ask what was to be done with her; her desolation was sad, but it had something of the comic in it. She was so obviously lost.
"You might walk down to Blent with Miss Gainsborough, Mina," Iver suggested.
"No," cried the Imp in a passion, leaping up from her chair. "I don't want to have anything to do with her."
Cecily started and her cheeks flushed red as though she had been struck. Iver looked vexed and ashamed.
"It's all her fault that Harry Tristram's—that Harry Tristram's——" The Imp's voice was choked; she could get no further.
Old Mr Neeld came forward. He took Harry's letter from Cecily and gave it to Mina.