“There’s many things may happen between now and your birthday.’’
“Exactly, your client may be ruined and Lucy may be broken-hearted, and all because of a silly punctilio.”
“Have you a copy of your father’s will.”
“Ah! Now you’re talking. I haven’t; but I suppose one can be procured. I should like to see one any way, for even a woman may be allowed a little curiosity as to her own fortune. After all, I may be as poor as a church mouse. But you can find out that for me and have no qualms, I hope.”
“Oh, yes, I shall be pleased to get you a copy of the will. I apprehend that you come to your inheritance in the general way.”
“And that is?”
“If and when you attain the age of twenty-one years, or marry under that age. By the way, that suggests one simple solution of the difficulty, you might marry.”
“Oh! That’s out of the question.”
“Not for, ahem!”—the young lawyer raised his long white hand to his mouth and coughed very slightly “not for Lucy’s sake?”
Dorothy rose with some dignity to close the interview. “Let me know please when have got the copy of the will. Meanwhile, I suppose I can rely on your discretion,” and Dorothy made to go.