"The person who saw her take it."
"I don't believe it—what motive had she?—none; besides, if that is so, how came it in the saintly Miriam's keeping—such very secure keeping too—at least she thought so."
The Major listened to her no longer. He became intent upon the contents of the will, and motioned to his wife to sit down. She continued her verbal fusillade none the less scathingly for lack of reply. At last she seemed to be approaching finality.
"You may talk as you like," she said (perhaps because he was not talking at all), "nothing will convince me that the woman is innocent. She stole that will out of sheer spite at me—to prevent my marrying Gerald."
"Oh, indeed!" This had roused the Major. "Would not the fact of your having elected to marry me have been a little inconvenient?"
"Not in the least—I should never have elected to marry you in those circumstances."
"Oh!" He looked at her in amazement. He was learning about women at a rate which threatened speedy disaster to his appreciation of them. He began firmly to hope that his education might become a trifle less rapid if less complete.
"You can look, and look, and look," she continued, "I don't care; you may as well know the truth, though goodness knows you might have guessed it long ago—I detest you!"
"Why—may I ask?"
"Why?—for lots of reasons. Chiefly I suppose because I love Gerald."