'Doug'--it was very rarely that she called me 'Doug,' I had rather she had not done so then. I had too recently heard the abbreviation proceeding from other lips--'Doug, I'm sorry I behaved so badly. I know I was a wretch. Edith has made me see that, and it's no use Reggie pretending that I wasn't.'
My manner was brusque. It was a subject about which I wished to hear nothing more.
'That's all right. I wouldn't be too penitent if I were you. There was no harm done.'
'But it prevented him making his will?'
'If it did it did; and what's done can't be undone. Not that I think it matters.'
'Don't you really think it matters? Supposing any of those things happen at which it seems that Mr. Foster hinted; what then?'
'What then? Wait till then. Till then say nothing.'
I do not think she altogether grasped my meaning. Indeed I doubt if I myself clearly understood what it was I wished to say. I told them what arrangements I was making with regard to the funeral, and so on, Reggie showing himself quite of my opinion that everything should be done as quietly as possible. Had the third marquis died, after a well-ordered life, in the odour of sanctity, his corpse might have been interred with all possible honour; as things were, it was advisable that he should be laid in his last resting-place with as little form and ceremony as was compatible with decency.
When I left the room, anxious to be by myself, to think, Edith followed me. For the first time in my life I found her presence irksome. She followed me to the small apartment which I dignified by the name of library, evidently assured of the welcome which hitherto had never failed her.
'At last!' she began, as soon as we were alone together. I busied myself with some papers which were on my writing-table.