Mrs. Lecount folded up her papers and hung her traveling-bag over her arm in contemptuous silence.
“Three thousand!”
Mrs. Lecount moved with impenetrable dignity from the table to the door.
“Four thousand!”
Mrs. Lecount gathered her shawl round her with a shudder, and opened the door.
“Five thousand!”
He clasped his hands, and wrung them at her in a frenzy of rage and suspense. “Five thousand” was the death-cry of his pecuniary suicide.
Mrs. Lecount softly shut the door again, and came back a step.
“Free of legacy duty, sir?” she inquired.
“No.”