She shook her head, glanced once more round the hall, and then bending towards him, whispered, "He's going to see his lawyer and alter the will. He hasn't said so, but every one knows."
Arthur pursed his mouth. "Pity I couldn't see him before he goes," he remarked. "Might save him another journey."
She looked at him with a frank approval, smiling her appreciation of his humour. "You're not afraid of him, are you?" she said.
He was afraid of nothing, as long as he could win her smiles, but he didn't brag. "There's no reason why I should be, is there?" he replied.
"Absolutely none," she said confidently. "But you may find him difficult, harder to deal with than you think. It was different with Ken. He didn't want to keep Ken. He does want to keep you. I must go now. I've a heap of letters to do for him."
"But shall I see you to-morrow?" he said, as she turned and began to ascend the shallow stairs.
She did not answer that, but when she was half-way up the second flight she looked back at him and waved her hand.
He was more than content. That last glance of hers had again approved him. He had won a measure of admiration from her by his decision. And to-morrow, he would have her to himself—possibly for the whole day....
He was still standing at the foot of the stairs, and after a moment's hesitation he went on up to his own room. He could not stand that crowd downstairs to-night. They would be depressingly gloomy, full of horrible forebodings about the impending alterations to that untidy will. He wanted to be alone with his own glorious thoughts.