"Yes"—the culprit was at least honest—"I should rather say I do. And I want you to let me. Do let me."
"It's apparently more then than Miss Gaw does!"
"Yes"—Gray again considered; "she seems to know more or less what she's worth, and she tells me that I can't even begin to approach it."
"Very crushing of her!" his friend laughed. "You 'make the pair', as they say, and you must help each other much. Her 'loathing' it exactly is—since we know all about it!—that gives her a frontage as wide as the Capitol at Washington. Therefore your comparison proves little—though I confess it would rather help us," Horton pursued, "if you could seem, as you say, to have asked one or two of the questions that I should suppose would have been open to you.
"Asked them of Mr. Crick, you mean?"
"Well, yes—if you've nobody else, and as you appear not to have been able to have cared to look at the will yourself."
Something like a light of hope, at this, kindled in Gray's face. "Would you care to look at it, Vinty?"
The inquiry gave Horton pause. "Look at it now, you mean?"
"Well—whenever you like. I think," said Gray, "it must be in the house."
"You're not sure even of that?" his companion wailed.