Robert paused. His tone was as matter-of-fact as if he were demonstrating a proposition of Euclid, but a smile had at length risen to his face. It came of his observation of the listener. Ada had closed her eyes; her hands were nervously clasped upon her lap.
“You follow this, Miss Warren?”
She raised her lids and regarded him. Her bosom had ceased to heave; she seemed to have regained her ordinary state of mind.
“I follow it,” she said.
“Should you die, unmarried, before the end of your twenty-first year,” Asquith pursued, “the whole of the estate goes to certain very remote connections of Mr. Clarendon.—No other contingency is provided for.”
“No other contingency is provided for,” repeated the girl mechanically. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean——”
Robert interrupted himself, and resumed in an off-hand way:
“Oh, other possible cases which will occur to one thinking the matter over.”
Ada appeared to reflect. Her face was turned slightly upwards, and a restful expression had come upon it.