“Because he died first, that’s all. It was this way. He, or rather his firm, which is only another name for him, for he owned three-fourths of the capital, got some tremendous shipping contract with the Government arising out of the war, that secures an enormous profit to them; how much I can’t tell you, but hundreds and hundreds of thousands of pounds. He had been very anxious about this contract, for his terms were so stiff that the officials who manage such affairs hesitated about signing them. At last one day after a long and I gather, stormy interview with I don’t know whom, in the course of which some rather strong language seems to have been used, the contract was signed and delivered to the firm. My father came home to this house with a copy of it in his pocket. He was very triumphant, for he looked at the matter solely from a business point of view, not at all from that of the country. Also he was very tired, for he had aged much during the last few years, and suffered occasionally from heart attacks. To keep himself up he drank a great deal of wine at dinner, first champagne and then the best part of a bottle of port. This made him talkative, and he kept me sitting there to listen to him while he boasted, poor man, of how he had ‘walked round’ the officials who thought themselves so clever, but never saw some trap which he had set for them.” “And what did you do?” asked Godfrey. “You know very well what I did. I grew angry, I could not help it, and told him I thought it was shameful to make money wrongfully out of the country at such a time, especially when he did not want it at all. Then he was furious and answered that he did want it, to support the peerage which he was going to get. He said also,” she added slowly, “that I was ‘an ignorant, interfering vixen,’ yes, that is what he called me, a vixen, who had always been a disappointment to him and thwarted his plans. ‘However,’ he went on, ‘as you think so little of my hard-earned money, I’ll take care that you don’t have more of it than I can help. I am not going to leave it to be wasted on silly charities by a sour old maid, for that’s what you are, since you can’t get hold of your precious parson’s son, who I hope will be sent to the war and killed. I’ll see the lawyers to-morrow, and make a will, which I hope you’ll find pleasant reading one day.’ “I answered that he might make what will he liked, and left the room, though he tried to stop me. “About half an hour later I saw the butler running about the garden where I was, looking for me in the gloom, and heard him calling: ‘Come to Sir John, miss. Come to Sir John!’