But then that's only if they didn't make
wills, and leave it away from you.'
Clem started. Intent as she had been for a long time on the
possibilities hinted at, the thought of unfavourable disposition by
will had never occurred to her. She shook it away.
'Why should they make wills? They ain't old enough for that, neither
of them.'
'And you might as well say they ain't old enough to be likely to
take their hook, either,' suggested Bob, with a certain uneasiness
in his tone.
Clem looked about her, as if her fierce eyes sought something. Her
brows twitched a little. She glanced at Bob, but he did not meet her
look. 'I don't care so much about the money,' she said, in a lower
and altered voice. 'I'd be content with a bit of it, if only I could
get rid of him at the same time.'
Bob looked gloomy.
'Well, it's no use talking,' he muttered.
'It's all your fault.'
'How do you make that out? It was you quarrelled first.'
'You're a liar!'
'Oh, there's no talking to you!'
He shuffled with his feet, then rose.
'Where can I see you on Wednesday morning?' asked Clem. 'I want to
hear about that girl.'
'It can't be Wednesday morning.
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