Of course William would allow her to accept the legacy.  In the early days after their visit to Old Manninglea she had tormented herself with fears that he would attempt to force a renunciation of benefits from that quarter, and she had determined never to yield to so preposterous an exercise of authority; but now she felt certain that he would not thus drive her to open revolt.  He was still somber and silent, but, however long he remained in this gloomy state, he would not interfere with her freedom in regard to the money.

Nevertheless, she felt relieved when he explicitly stated that there would be no further opposition on his part.

“Oh, Will, I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear you talk so sensibly about it.”

“It is not willingly that I say ‘Yes.’  Don’t you go and think that.”

“No.  But you do see we couldn’t act otherwise?”

“You must accept it—­for this reason, and not for any other reason.  Our hands are tied.  If you refuse it, people would wonder.”

“Yes—­yes.  But, Will, you keep saying you, when it’s really us.  It will be ours, not just only mine, you must remember.”

“Ah, but I doubt if I could ever take you at your word, there.”

After this she sang at her household work.  She took as a good sign the fact that he had spoken doubtfully, instead of formally repudiating her suggestion that they were to share alike in all the good things which the money might bring them.  She thought it must mean that he was very near to forgiving her.  Death had now almost wiped out everything.  He was feeling more and more every day what she had felt from the beginning, that it was palpably absurd to go on harboring resentment.

Free now from exaggerated estimates, with ideas readjusted to the measure of reality, and her natural common sense at work again, she thought of what the little fortune might truly do for them.  It ought to yield a hundred pounds, twice fifty pounds a year—­roughly two pounds a week coming in unearned.  Why, it was wealth.  On top of William’s annual emoluments such an income would make them feel as if they were rolling in money.

Visions immediately arose of all sorts of things that would now be within the scope of their means—­choicer meals for William, aprons and caps for Mary, new curtains and much else new and delightful to beautify the home.  Little excursions too—­a regular seaside holiday during leave-time!

Messrs. Cleaver had intimated that the London solicitors were ready to hand over the money, and Mavis was talking to her husband about its investment.

“I trust your judgment, Will—­and I’d like it put in both our names.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t quite consent to that.”

“I do wish you would.  If it’s invested well, I make out it ought to bring us a hundred a year.”

“Mavis,” he said, thoughtfully, “it might be invested to bring more than that, if you were prepared to take a certain amount of risk.”