"It's funny how often it rains for weddings."

"Very funny."

"The tea is ready, sir."

As Kate left the room, Mrs. Wickham crossed slowly over to where her
husband was standing in front of the window leading to the garden. Her
voice shook with emotion. It was evident that she was very near tears.
He put his arm around her awkwardly, but with a certain suggestion of
protective tenderness.

"I've been counting on that money for years," she said, hardly above a
whisper. "I used to dream at night that I was reading a telegram with
the news of Aunt Louisa's death. And I've thought of all we should be
able to do when we get it. It'll make such a difference."

"You know what she was. She didn't care twopence for us. We ought to be
prepared for the worst," he said soberly.

"Do you think she could have left everything to Miss Marsh?"

"I shouldn't be greatly surprised."

"We'll dispute the will," she said, once more raising her voice. "It's
undue influence. I suspected Miss Marsh from the beginning. I hate her.
Oh, how I hate her! Oh, why doesn't Wynne come?"

A ring at the bell answered her.