"Are you interested in gardening?"

"No, I hate it. At last!"

The exclamation was called forth by the appearance of Nora in the
doorway. The two men both, rose; Wynne to go forward and shake Nora's
hand with unaffected cordiality, Wickham to whisper in his wife's ear,
beseeching her to exercise more self-control.

"How do you do, Miss Marsh? I'm rejoiced to see you looking so fit."

"Oh, I'm very well, thank you. How do you do?"

"Will you have a cup of tea?" asked Wickham in response to what he
thought was a signal from his wife.

But Mrs. Wickham had reached the point where further waiting was simply
impossible.

"Jim," she remonstrated, "Miss Marsh would much prefer to have tea
quietly after we're gone."

Nora understood and for the moment found it in her heart to be sorry for
the woman, much as she disliked her.

"I won't have any tea, thank you," she said simply.

"Mr. Wynne has brought the will with him," explained Mrs. Wickham. Her
tone was almost appealing as if she begged Nora if she knew of its