“Ethel Farnese,” replied Floy as he paused for the name, her cheek flushing, the low, sweet tones of her refined voice slightly tremulous.
What audacity it seemed in her thus to take quiet possession of a name she had never before so much as heard pronounced!
At that both lawyers pricked up their ears, a look of surprised satisfaction coming into their faces.
“Indeed!” said Server, extending his hand; “then we are most happy to see you. But can it be the Mrs. Ethel Farnese for whom we have been so long advertising? so young—her daughter, perhaps?”
“For her or her heirs, was it not?” Floy quietly asked.
“Ah, yes, certainly! and you bring proofs of your identity, doubtless? You come from your mother? or—”
He paused, glancing inquiringly at her deep mourning.
“Yes; I have documents to show—a story to tell,” Floy said, ignoring the last query; “have you leisure to hear it now?”
“We have; no time like the present,” said Server briskly, drawing his chair nearer, while his partner came forward with an air of keen interest and joined them.