"I don't want it in quite such a hurry as that; but--you know what I mean!--I don't want to have to wait a horrid year." Presently she asked, "Do you know that Mr. Lindsay's very ill?"
"I heard it as I came along."
"I think he's dying. I suppose Nora'll be very rich if he does."
"Let's hope that he'll not die."
"Not die?"
She looked at him with such a strange expression on her face that he smiled.
"Why, girlie, you don't want the father to die to make the daughter rich!"
"No; of course not."
But, afterwards, she was not the same; it was as if he had struck some jarring note. When they parted she went round to the back of the house, along the terrace, towards the study window, which still stood open. She paused upon the threshold.
"Suppose he were not to die? suppose he doesn't?"