“Yes, yes, so you did. Oh, Joe, the things she said about you in this letter!” opening the carriage door and tossing out the scraps of paper. “They make my blood boil.”
“My blessed darling,” as she snuggled up against his shoulder, “if I only had enough money, I’d carry you off tonight.”
“Remember I haven’t yet given you my answer,” teasingly.
“I’d marry you without it,” sturdily. “Lord! if I only had the luck of some people—Chichester Barnard, for instance.”
Kathryn’s body stiffened and every drop of blood deserted her face. “What about Chichester Barnard?” she asked in barely more than a whisper.
“Didn’t you read in this morning’s paper that Mrs. Lawrence’s will had been offered for probate, and that she bequeathed him a hundred thousand dollars?”
“I had no chance to look at the papers,” she answered dully. Immersed in his own prospective happiness he failed to observe the anguish which dimmed her eyes. Suddenly she roused herself. “So Mr. Barnard is a wealthy man; well, merit usually wins in the end.” The covert sneer was lost on her companion.
“Barnard’s a good chap,” he said tolerantly. “He deserves his luck.”
“I presume now he will marry Marjorie Langdon.”
“Marry Marjorie Langdon?” Joe’s hearty burst of laughter covered the quiver in Kathryn’s voice. “Lord bless you, he’s trying for higher game.”