That was the way I felt it. But we weren't
together, not in every way. I mean, we were fighting between ourselves
too, right up to the very end." She gave another low laugh. "I suppose
we're fighting still; he means to face me with some Radbolt villainy, and
make me sorry for what he calls my legalism--with an epithet!"
"That's his idea, and my own too, I confess. Those chief mourners will
find the money--and some other things that'll make 'em stare. But they'll
lie low; they'll sit on the cash till the time comes when it's safe to
dispose of it; and they'll bilk the Inland Revenue out of the duties. The
remarkable thing is that Beaumaroy seems to want them to do it."
"That's to make me sorry; that's to prove me wrong, Mr. Naylor."
"It may make you sorry, it makes me sorry, for that matter; but it
doesn't prove you wrong. You were right. My boy Alec would have taken
the same line as you did. Now you needn't laugh at me, Mary. I own up at
once; that's my highest praise."
"I know it is; and it implies a contrast?"
Old Naylor unclasped his hands and spread them in a deprecatory gesture.
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