"All in good time, my dear. Let me first explain the will to you."
"Do you wish Miss Slarge to be present?" said Olive, as the lawyer spread out the formidable parchment.
"Oh, that is not necessary. I suppose she is busy?"
Olive shrugged her pretty shoulders. "She is hunting, I believe, through Layard's Nineveh in search of Nimrod," she answered. "Lucky Aunt Rubina, she hasn't got to marry a man she doesn't care two pins about."
"I don't suppose Miss Slarge would marry any one, my dear. She has always been the consistent advocate of celibacy."
"I only wish my father had been the same."
"Would that really please you?" said Dimbal; he knew a good deal more about Miss Olive's likes, if not about her dislikes, than she had any idea of. "I met Mr. Mallow at Reading Station," the artful lawyer continued, significantly.
"Oh!" said Olive, the colour mounting to her face.
"Yes; he has come down to stop for a week or two with Lord Aldean."
"I--I--well, I really don't care. Why do you look at me like that, Mr. Dimbal? Don't, please! Mr. Mallow is really nothing to me."