has a daughter, and by her being invited here I should think
she's the favourite niece. No, no; depend upon it they won't get
anything at all.'

Having finished his breakfast, he leaned back and began to unfold
the London paper that had come by post.

'Had Mr Reardon any hopes of that kind at the time of his
marriage, do you think?' inquired Mrs Milvain.

'Reardon? Good heavens, no! Would he were capable of such
forethought!'

In a few minutes Jasper was left alone in the room. When the
servant came to clear the table he strolled slowly away, humming
a tune.

The house was pleasantly situated by the roadside in a little
village named Finden. Opposite stood the church, a plain, low,
square-towered building. As it was cattle-market to-day in the
town of Wattleborough, droves of beasts and sheep occasionally
went by, or the rattle of a grazier's cart sounded for a moment.
On ordinary days the road saw few vehicles, and pedestrians were
rare.

Mrs Milvain and her daughters had lived here for the last seven
years, since the death of the father, who was a veterinary
surgeon. The widow enjoyed an annuity of two hundred and forty
pounds, terminable with her life; the children had nothing of
their own. Maud acted irregularly as a teacher of music; Dora had