"Yes."
"So I don't want you to feel tied at all," he went on. "I want you to do as you like, you know—have your own friends, and go about! There isn't any need to worry about money—there's plenty."
"Yes," she said again stupidly; then, "I suppose father left a great deal?"
"He did, yes. I didn't bother you about the will—it wasn't 108 necessary; but, of course, everything has been properly drawn up."
"Yes." She was not interested; what did mere money matter? It could not buy for her the only thing she wanted in the world.
They seemed to have left the sunshine behind them with the sea, for as they neared London the sky grew overcast and large raindrops splashed down and against the windows.
Marie looked at Chris; the last time she had traveled this way was when she was summoned from Paris at her father's death.
So much had happened since then, and yet Chris looked exactly the same, no older, no sadder, though she felt that she herself was both.
"I hope Mr. Dakers will come and see us soon," she said impulsively.
Chris laughed