“True. A pity the practice isn’t more extensive. I suppose she got tired of you? You were too conceited for her?”
“We’ll say so,” conceded Vincent, more good-humouredly.
“Then it was her doing?”
“You are impertinent, but I don’t mind telling you that it was.”
“Oh, what a frank boy! There was no reason on your side for—drawing back a little, eh? waiting to see what time would bring, eh?”
“Your insinuations are best not understood.”
“It didn’t by chance occur to you that—let us say, that A. W. might not in the end prove what she seemed?”
Vincent looked at her out of the corners of his eyes.
“There was nobody, I suppose, interested in hinting that perhaps the will——? You understand?”
“Look here, what do you mean?” he asked, thoroughly roused.