“I can imagine things less impossible. You are a good child; but remember, Mollie, my liking or not liking has nothing to do with my choice of an heir. The condition to which I referred might easily apply to one who appealed to me in no other way. It is only right to warn you.”
But the listener took no heed of the warning. Her face was one radiant beam of delight.
“You called me ‘Mollie’!” she cried. “It was the very first time! That really does sound as if we were going to be friends?”
Chapter Twenty Two.
Mr Farrell Makes his Will.
It was not in human nature—not in Mollie’s nature, at least—to resist “showing off” a little after that momentous interview, and her sudden familiarity with their host filled her companions with amazed curiosity. Ruth had naturally heard all that had passed, and loyally stifled the dawning of envy, but the young men were at a loss to account for what seemed to them a mysterious change of favourites.
“Miss Mollie is outstripping us all! She has stepped into the position of first favourite this last fortnight,” Victor Druce said, as the four young people sat on the terrace steps waiting for tea, a few days after the visit to the vicarage.
He laughed as he spoke, but in a half-hearted manner, and tugged heavily at the ends of his moustache, while he scrutinised Mollie’s face through half-closed lids. She beamed at him gaily in response, scorning mock-modest protestations.