"You will have to fight it jointly," said Judge Garrett, after
extracting the wheat from the chaff of Browne's remarks. "You can't take
hers away from her and she can't get yours. We must combine against the
natives. Come back to-morrow at two."
Promptly at two Browne appeared, eager-eyed and nervous. He had left
behind him at home a miserable young woman with red eyes and choking
breath who bemoaned the cruel conviction that she stood between him and
fortune.
"But hang it all, dearest, I wouldn't marry that girl if I had the
chance. I'd marry you all over again to-day if I could," he had cried
out to her, but she wondered all afternoon if he really meant it. It
never entered her head to wonder if Lady Deppingham was old or young,
pretty or ugly, bright or dull. She had been Mrs. Browne for three
months and she could not quite understand how she had been so happy up
to this sickening hour.
Judge Garrett had a copy of the will in his hand. He looked dubious,
even dismayed.
"It's as sound as the rock of Gibraltar," he announced dolefully.
"You don't mean it!" gasped poor Bobby, mopping his fine Harvard brow,
his six feet of manhood shrinking perceptibly as he looked about for a
chair in which to collapse.
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