“Well, as a matter of fact, he probably knew that where her boy was she would be, and that the same hands that cared for the boy would care for her.”
“Oh, yes, yours,” said Olwen, with sudden coldness.
“Yes, mine,” acquiesced Bayre, buoyantly. “When he’s treated me so handsomely, and placed such confidence in me whom he could only remember as a boy, the least I can do is to carry out what I’m sure were his wishes.”
“Oh, yes, of course. You will have to live here, will you not?”
“I’m not bound to, but that seems to have been my uncle’s wish. He has left money to be devoted to the upkeep of the place until the time his son comes of age, and that fund is to be administered by me. And besides that, as you heard, he’s left me ten thousand pounds.”
“You’ll be quite rich. You’ll marry her, of course?”
“That would be the simplest way of settling things, if it could be managed, wouldn’t it?” said Bayre, demurely.
“Certainly. It would be a perfectly charming arrangement. I congratulate you already.”
Her manner was very haughty, and flighty, and cool.
“You’d better wait till she’s accepted me, or at least till I’ve proposed, hadn’t you? It’s dangerous to congratulate too soon. Supposing it were to come to nothing, you know, I should feel so foolish, after receiving your congratulations.”