up to him and put her hand on his shoulder. The caress, so innocent,
unpremeditated, and instinctive, ran through him like a voltaic shock.
These two were almost strangers; they had scarcely met till within the
past week, Mark being seldom in Bursley. 'You mistake me--it is a shame
of _him_! I'm fearfully angry.'

'Angry?' he repeated, astonished.

'Yes, angry.' She walked to the window, and, twitching at the
blind-cord, gazed into the dim street. It was beginning to grow dark.
'Shall you fetch the lawyer? I shouldn't if I were you. I won't.'

'I must fetch him,' Mark said.

She turned round and admired him. 'What _will_ he do with his precious
money?' she murmured.

'Leave it to you, probably.'

'Not he. I wouldn't touch it--not now; it's yours by rights. Perhaps you
don't know that when I came here it was distinctly understood I wasn't
to expect anything under his will. Besides, I have my own money ... Oh
dear! If he wasn't in such pain, wouldn't I talk to him--for the first
and last time in my life!'

'You must please not say a word to him. I don't really want the money.'

'But you ought to have it. If he takes it away from you he's _unjust_.'

'What did the doctor say this afternoon?' asked Mark, wishing to change