just burned the last will Uncle Fred ever made--the one that left
everything to me. The one in your favour was probated or proved or
whatever they call it a week ago." I think Billy was surprised.
She stood over him, sharply outlined against the darkness, clasping
her hands tightly just under her chin, ludicrously suggestive of a
pre-Raphaelitish saint. In the firelight her hair was an aureole; and
her gown, yellow with multitudinous tiny arabesques of black velvet,
echoed the glow of her hair to a shade. The dancing flames made of her
a flickering little yellow wraith. And oh, the quaint tenderness of
her eyes!--oh, the hint of faint, nameless perfume she diffused! thus