‘Who did he think I was?’
‘I don’t know. He doesn’t know anything about you, at all events. As you may guess, I have something not very pleasant to tell. I didn’t mean to be unkind; it was only the surprise at seeing you when I opened the door. I had calculated the exact time. But never mind. You look cold; warm yourself at the fire. You shall drink a glass of wine; it will put your nerves right again.’
‘No, I want nothing. Tell me at once what it is.’
But Tarrant quietly brought a bottle and glass from his cupboard. Nancy again refused, pettishly.
‘Until you have drunk,’ he said, with a smile of self-will, ‘I shall tell you nothing.’
‘I don’t know what I’ve done to make you like this.’
Her sobs and tears returned. After a moment of impatience, Tarrant went up to her with the glass, laid a hand upon her shoulder, and kissed her.
‘Now, come, be reasonable. We have uncommonly serious things to talk about.’
‘What did your friend think of me?’
‘That you were one of the prettiest girls he had ever been privileged to see, and that I was an enviable fellow to have such a visitor. There now, another sip, and let us have some colour back into your cheeks. There’s bad news, Nancy; confoundedly bad news, dear girl. My grandmother was dead when I got there. Well, the foolish old woman has been muddling her affairs for a long time, speculating here and there without taking any one’s advice, and so on; and the result is that she leaves nothing at all.’