‘Perhaps he was. He may have known that the legacy was a mere form.’
‘You are the only one affected?’
‘So father says. It’s sure to be the case.’
‘This has upset you horribly, I can see. Sit down, Marian. When did the letter come?’
‘This morning.’
‘And you have been fretting over it all day. But come, we must keep up our courage; you may get something substantial out of the scoundrels still.’
Even whilst he spoke his eyes wandered absently. On the last word his voice failed, and he fell into abstraction. Marian’s look was fixed upon him, and he became conscious of it. He tried to smile.
‘What were you writing?’ she asked, making involuntary diversion from the calamitous theme.
‘Rubbish for the Will-o’-the-Wisp. Listen to this paragraph about English concert audiences.’
It was as necessary to him as to her to have a respite before the graver discussion began. He seized gladly the opportunity she offered, and read several pages of manuscript, slipping from one topic to another. To hear him one would have supposed that he was in his ordinary mood; he laughed at his own jokes and points.