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“Tantamount had no right to make such a Will. I told him so at the time, and I’ve often regretted since that I didn’t refuse to draw it. He was playing with fire—hell fire. He might have messed up four lives. And, if he had, he’ld’ve paid for it. That sort of thing isn’t forgiven.... Now that I’ve seen the parties, my mind’s at rest. They’re out of the top drawer, both of ’em; and they’re splendidly matched. They don’t know it—yet, and they don’t like their hands being forced. For that’s what it is. One’s only human, you know, and in these lean years six hundred thousand’s a bait you can’t ignore. But they’ll come through all right. I’m not at all certain, myself, that we couldn’t have upset the Will. I’d always got the possibility up my sleeve. But now I shan’t use it.”

Upon the night of their betrothal, neither Miss Vulliamy nor Pardoner had been at their best. They were uncomfortable and suspicious. They felt their position. To my mind, it does them real credit that they were not exceedingly sour. The circumstances were affording a unique occasion for the expression of irony and distaste. Each was, indeed, a mill-stone about the other’s neck. Add to this that they had been brought up as brother and sister, and had never looked upon one another in any other light, when you will see how easily Bitterness might have taken her seat at the board. The two had seen each other in the making—without any frills....