'Is this a time to make him unhappy—to send him out with something on his mind?—something that might even—'
'Well, go on!'
'Might even make him wish'—her voice dropped—'not to come back.'
There was silence. Then the Squire violently threw down the pen he was holding on the table beside him.
'Thank you, Miss Bremerton. That will do. I bid you good-night!'
Elizabeth did not wait to be told twice. She turned and fled down the whole length of the library. The door at the further end closed upon her.
'A masterful young woman!' said the Squire after a moment, drawing a long breath. Then he took up the codicil, thrust it into a drawer of his writing-table, lit a cigarette, and walked up and down smoking it. After which he went to bed and slept remarkably well.
Elizabeth cried herself to sleep. No comforting sprite whispered to her that she had won the first round in an arduous campaign. On the contrary, she fully expected dismissal on the morrow.