“I’d like to know who has a better!” she retorted, straightening herself with an angry, defiant look up into his face, as he came and stood at her side. “I’m Avery’s nearest of kin, and therefore his heir.”
“But there may be a will.”
“No; there isn’t. I’ve hunted everywhere, and there’s nothing of the kind to be found.”
“Still, even in that case you are not his only heir.”
“I am, though; for we two were the last of the family.”
“Yes; but you forget that May inherits her mother’s share.”
“She sha’n’t! I won’t hear of it! That chit of a child, indeed! She’ll get it when I’m gone, if she outlives me, but I shall hold on to it till then.”
“But you can’t, unless there’s a will leaving it all to you; for otherwise the law will give her an equal share.”
“But if we don’t choose to let anybody know what he has left?” she asked, frowningly, yet with some slight hesitation.
“There, now,” said her husband, “don’t you see why you have no right to come here alone and examine his effects?”