She looked up at him with a curious questioning in her eyes that struck him as strangely pathetic.
“Yes,” he said to himself, “she must be told all.”
So the way was paved for his revelations. And Alys was sufficiently prepared for them to manifest no very overwhelming surprise. She listened in silence till Laurence had told her all. Then she just said quietly:
“Laurence, it was a cruel will.”
“Yes,” said her brother, “however intended, so it has indeed proved.”
“Going near,” pursued Alys, softly, almost as if speaking to herself, “going near to spoil two, four, nay, I may say five lives,” she whispered. “Oh, thank God, Laurence, it is at an end!”
She clasped her thin little hands nervously. How changed she was—Alys, poor Alys, who used to ignore the very existence of nerves!
Her next remark struck Mr Cheviott unexpectedly.
“Laurence,” she said, “I wonder if Mary Western will ever know all this!”
He had it on his lips to answer, “The sooner so, the better,” but he could not. Instead thereof his reply sounded cool and unconcerned in the extreme.