"Your heart!" laughed Joan, with all the insolence of a beautiful, spoiled young heiress of eighteen, who has pined for revenge upon a hated man, and got it at last. "Your heart!" It was delicious to throw policy to the wind for once and be frankly herself. She was thoroughly enjoying the situation, as she stood with the pure radiance of the moonlight shining down upon her bright head and her white, filmy gown. "What a fool you must think me, Mr. Gallon! It’s your pockets you would have me fill, not your heart. I acknowledge I have owed you a debt for a long time, but it’s not a debt of love. When I was a forlorn, friendless child, you tried to turn me out into the cold; and if I hadn’t been stronger than you, you would have succeeded. Instead, it was I who did that. I’ve always meant to pay, for I hate debts. No, I will not marry you. No; nothing that your aunt means to give me shall be yours. Now I have paid, and we are quits." [Illustration: "’No, I will not marry you.’"] George Gallon was cold with fury. "Don’t be too sure," he said in his harsh voice, which Joan had always hated. "They laugh best who laugh last." "I know that," the girl retorted; and passing him to go indoors, where Lady Thorndyke dozed after dinner, she threw over her shoulder a laugh to spice her words. The next day she went back to school, pleased with herself and what she had done, for she was no longer in the least afraid of George Gallon. Some things are in the air. It was in the air at school that Joan would be a great heiress. The girls were very nice to her, and Joan enjoyed their flatteries, though she saw through them and made no intimate friends. When in June, shortly before the coming of the summer holidays, the girl was telegraphed for, because Lady Thorndyke had had a paralytic stroke and was dying, there was a sensation in the school. Of course, as Joan would now inherit something like a million, she would not return, but after her time of mourning would come out in Society, well chaperoned, be presented, and probably marry at least a viscount. The other girls were nicer than ever; tears were shed over her, and farewell presents bestowed. When Joan arrived in England, Lady Thorndyke was dead, and the girl was sad, for she realised how well she had loved her benefactress. After the funeral came the reading of the will. The dead woman’s adopted daughter, the servants, and George Gallon were the only persons present besides the lawyer. Joan’s heart scarcely quickened its beating, for she was absolutely confident. Any surprise which might come could be merely a matter of a few thousands more or less. She sat leaning back in an armchair, very calm and beautiful in her deep mourning. George Gallon’s eyes never left her face, and they lit as at last she lifted her head, with bewilderment on the suddenly paling face.