Instinctively she had taken refuge in this room, as the one place unconnected with Mrs. Burbage; the room that held no memories of her. The grey-haired man who entered, shook hands with her rather impressively, and sat down, with the remark that she was no doubt acquainted with the contents of Mrs. Burbage’s will. “No,” returned Anne, “except that I understood that everything was to go to Mr. Crosby, her nephew.” The lawyer glanced at her rather sharply. “The last will is in your favour,” he replied. “Everything is left to you unconditionally. This house--all my client’s property--her real and personal estate. Everything in short.” Anne turned a shade paler. She did not understand, but she was aware that the little grey-haired man before her, was making what seemed to him at least, an important announcement. At the end of half-an-hour’s conversation, she followed him to the door, still unable to grasp the significance of his words. “The will, as I say, is most simple,” he remarked. “Everything is quite straightforward, and we ought to be able to get the whole thing through speedily. In the meantime, I congratulate you, Miss Page,” he added dryly. “Apart from the income, Fairholme Court is a most delightful residence.” He glanced about him. “Most delightful,” he added. Anne shook hands with him, and went slowly back to the library. Dinner was served as usual by the quiet maids, whose demeanour since the death of their mistress, had assumed an added shade of decorous gravity. They liked Anne, and their manner towards her expressed a kindliness and sympathy for which she was grateful. To-night, she scarcely noticed their solicitude, and the dishes they set before her were taken away almost untasted. She wandered into the library again after her lonely meal, and began to pace the floor aimlessly. From time to time, she took a book from one of the shelves, opened it, glanced at a page that was meaningless, and unconscious of her action, replaced the volume. The dry monotonous voice of the lawyer, re-echoed in her brain. He was saying words which signified nothing. “Your income will amount to between four and five thousand a year.” Out of a mass of detail, it was only this she remembered, and at present it conveyed nothing to her mind. She was conscious only of a feeling of loving gratitude that her friend had cared for her. Of what that care implied, in those first hours she realized nothing. She could only think of her last words at the station. “If I get better, it will be for the pleasure of seeing you again.” Her eyes filled with tears as she remembered them. Gradually the hours wore on. The servants went to bed, and the house was silent. Mechanically Anne piled fresh logs on the fire, and at last conscious of exhaustion from her ceaseless pacing of the room, she sank into a chair, and held her hands to the blaze. She was a rich woman now, the lawyer had said so.