'
'I don't see that there's any chance of their getting much,'
replied Jasper, meditatively. 'Mrs Reardon is only his niece. The
man's brother and sister will have the first helping, I suppose.
And then, if it comes to the second generation, the literary Yule
has a daughter, and by her being invited here I should think
she's the favourite niece. No, no; depend upon it they won't get
anything at all.'
Having finished his breakfast, he leaned back and began to unfold
the London paper that had come by post.
'Had Mr Reardon any hopes of that kind at the time of his
marriage, do you think?' inquired Mrs Milvain.
'Reardon? Good heavens, no! Would he were capable of such
forethought!'
In a few minutes Jasper was left alone in the room. When the
servant came to clear the table he strolled slowly away, humming
a tune.
The house was pleasantly situated by the roadside in a little
village named Finden. Opposite stood the church, a plain, low,
square-towered building. As it was cattle-market to-day in the
town of Wattleborough, droves of beasts and sheep occasionally
went by, or the rattle of a grazier's cart sounded for a moment.
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