“He has left me a thousand a year,” Teresa said in a very low voice. There was not a touch of triumph in it, but the thing was amazing because they were all unaccustomed to good fortune, and they simply stared at each other. Sylvia broke the silence—
“A thousand a year! How rich you will be!”
“How rich we shall all be!” echoed Teresa in a gay unsteady voice. “Granny, every day of your life you will go for a drive. No more thinking whether a fire is necessary or not, or how long a passo of wood will last. But do you believe it is quite true? Not a mistake of the lawyers?”
And for the first time in her life Mrs Brodrick reflected thankfully that lawyers did not often make mistakes. She could not speak, but she thanked God silently.
“I don’t understand it,” said Sylvia, laughing vaguely.
“Oh, nor do I! Don’t let us try.”
“What will Nina say now?”
“Now—why?”
“Because she was so miserable about your purse. I think she was crying. She said,” Sylvia went on with a little awe, “that she was sure you must have met a priest the first thing this morning, and didn’t come back and wait for an hour as you should have done. And then it is Tuesday, which is always an unlucky day, don’t you know?”
Teresa jumped up and ran to the door. “Nina!”