“Mr. Hallowell?” objected her uncle.
“Uncle Stephen,” Miss Coates again began, “I wish to be as brief as possible. I asked you to see me today because I hoped that by talking things over we might avoid lawsuits and litigation.”
Mr. Hallowell nodded his approval. “Yes,” he said encouragingly.
“I have told Mr. Winthrop what the trouble is,” Miss Coates went on, “and he agrees with me that I have been very unjustly treated—”
“By whom?” interrupted Hallowell.
“By you,” said his niece.
“Wait, Helen,” commanded the old man. “Have you also told Mr. Winthrop,” he demanded, “that I have made a will in your favor? That, were I to die tonight, you would inherit ten millions of dollars? Is that the injustice of which you complain?”
Judge Gaylor gave an exclamation of pleasure.
“Good!” he applauded. “Excellent!”
Hallowell turned indignantly to Winthrop. “And did she tell you also,” he demanded, “that for three years I have urged her to make a home in this house? That I have offered her an income as large as I would give my own daughter, and that she has refused both offers. And what’s more”—in his excitement his voice rose hysterically—“by working publicly for her living she has made me appear mean and uncharitable, and—”