She took it mechanically, but for several moments sat agape and motionless. The extraordinary announcement held her bewildered. Quickly she glanced through the long lines of formal words, reassuring herself that he had spoken the truth. She was to receive twenty thousand pounds if she would marry the man before her, while he, on his part, would become possessed of a substantial sum sufficient to keep them comfortably for the remainder of their lives. At first she was inclined to doubt the genuineness of the document; but it bore the signature of the firm of solicitors, and was attested by them to be a true copy of the original will. It held her dumb in astonishment. "Then we are to marry?" she observed amazedly, when at last she again found voice. "The offer is to be made to you," he answered, evasively. "As you have seen, if you refuse, or if you are already married, I am to receive half the amount." "I am not married," she answered with a slightly coquettish smile, her chin resting upon her palm in a reflective attitude as she gazed at him. "Marriage with you will mean that we have together the substantial sum of one hundred and twenty thousand pounds." "That is so," he said gravely. "If we married we certainly should have money." "But you love Liane," she answered in a low tone. "You can never love me," and she sighed. He did not answer. The look upon his face told her the truth. He feared lest she should accept this curious offer, knowing that he would then be drawn into a marriage with her. She regarded him critically, and saw that he was tall, good-looking, muscular, and in every way a thorough type of the good-natured Englishman. Twenty thousand pounds was, she reflected, a sum that would prove very acceptable, for she lived extravagantly, and the Villa Fortunee itself was an expensive luxury. "It is very dull living alone," she exclaimed, with a little touch of melancholy in her voice. Then, with a laugh, she added, "To be perfectly frank, I should not object to you as my husband." "But is there not a barrier between us?" he exclaimed, quickly. "Only Liane. And she can never marry you." "I love her. I cannot love you," he answered. Her effort at coquetry sickened him. "It is not a question of love," she answered, coldly, toying with the fine marquise ring upon her white finger. "It is a question of one hundred and twenty thousand pounds." "Would either of us be one whit the better for it, even if we married?" he queried. "I think not. At present we are friends. If we married I should hate you." "Nevertheless I should obtain twenty thousand pounds," she argued. "Is it worth while to risk one's future happiness for that?" he said. "I have not yet sufficiently considered the matter," she replied, with her eyes still fixed on him. "At present I'm inclined to think that it is. But I must have time to reflect. One cannot refuse such an offer without due consideration."