“Well, good-bye for a minute,” she said, glancing smiling into his eyes and nodding to him, as she left him at the gate of the lawyer’s house, by the ivy-covered wall.
The lawyer was a little man, all grey. Alvina had known him since she was a child: but rather as an official than an individual. She arrived all smiling in his room. He sat down and scrutinized her sharply, officially, before beginning.
“Well, Miss Houghton, and what news have you?”
“I don’t think I’ve any, Mr. Beeby. I came to you for news.”
“Ah!” said the lawyer, and he fingered a paper-weight that covered a pile of papers. “I’m afraid there is nothing very pleasant, unfortunately. And nothing very unpleasant either, for that matter.”
He gave her a shrewd little smile.
“Is the will proved?”
“Not yet. But I expect it will be through in a few days’ time.”
“And are all the claims in?”
“Yes. I think so. I think so!” And again he laid his hand on the pile of papers under the paper-weight, and ran through the edges with the tips of his fingers.