them. They’ve got their feelings same as I’ve got mine.”
“Why not chuck the money?” I says. “They’ll be glad enough to get it back,” they being a poor lot, as I heard her say.
“How can I?” she says. “It’s a life interest. As long as I live I’ve got to have it, and as long as I live I’ve got to remain the Marchioness of Appleford.”
She finishes her soup, and pushes the plate away from her. “As long as I live,” she says, talking to herself.
“By Jove!” she says, starting up “why not?”
“Why not what?” I says.
“Nothing,” she answers. “Get me an African telegraph form, and be quick about it!”
I fetched it for her, and she wrote it and gave it to the porter then and there;
and, that done, she sat down and finished her dinner.
She was a bit short with me after that; so I judged it best to keep my own place.