For a startled moment, Mary wondered whether he were considering her as a possible bride, but came to the conclusion, after a glance at his face, that he was merely sliding by not too obvious stages away from a subject which he had been quick to see she disliked.
"An heiress!" she said. "I'm afraid you've been listening to Uncle Wally, Prince."
"Certainly, yes. It's not true? Alas, then! I understood that there is an aunt who leaves all her money to your guardian, and that you are his heiress."
"You've got it wrong," replied Mary. "My guardian's Aunt Clara hasn't made a will at all, and isn't likely to, because, to tell you the truth, she's mad. Has been, for years and years."
"Yes, and a good job too," said Wally, who had just come into the room. "I've no doubt if she were sane she'd go and leave every penny to a Home for Lost Cats, because that's just the sort of thing that happens to me. In fact, it would be just my luck if the old girl recovered, instead of kicking the bucket, which is what she ought to have done years ago." He sat down, and shook out his napkin. "And yet you'll hear people arguing that euthanasia's all wrong!" he added bitterly. "The end of it'll be that I shall die first, and the only person who'll benefit will be Mary. Not that I don't want you to benefit, my dear, because I do, but it's a bit thick if I don't benefit first, if you see what I mean."
Mary had finished her breakfast by this time, andd now got up, adjuring Wally to look after his guest.
"As far as I can see, he doesn't need any looking after," said Wally outrageously. "Quite one of the family, aren't you?"
The Prince refused to take offence, but replied smilingly: "Yes, indeed, you have made me feel so. It's very pleasant! I assure you, I enjoy my stay enormously."
"Well, I'm glad someone's pleased," retorted Wally, eyeing him with gloomy dislike.
Mary felt unequal to the task of coping with this situation, and left the room, preferring to perform another unpleasant duty. She went upstairs to visit Ermyntrude.