mean that people would
impute--"

Mary Arkroyd had her limitations--of experience, of knowledge, of
intuition. But she did not lack courage.

"I have given you my professional opinion. It is that, so far as I see,
Mr. Saffron is of perfectly sound understanding, and capable of making a
valid will. You did me the honor--"

"No, no!" he interrupted in a low but rather strangely vehement protest.
"I begged the favor--"

"As you like! The favor then, of asking me to give you my opinion as your
friend, as well as my view as Mr. Saffron's doctor."

Beaumaroy did not rise from his knees, but turned his face towards her;
the logs had blazed up, and his eyes looked curiously bright in the
glare, themselves, as it were, afire.

"In my opinion a man of sensitive honor would prefer that that will
should not be made, Mr. Beaumaroy," said Mary steadily.

Beaumaroy appeared to consider. "I'm a bit posed by that point of view,
Dr. Arkroyd," he said at last, "Either the old man's sane--_compos
mentis,_ don't you call it?--or he isn't. If he is--"

"I know. But I feel that way about it."

"You'd have to give evidence for me!" He raised his brows and
smiled at her.

"There can be undue influence without actual want of mental
competence, I think."

"I don't know whether my influence is undue. I believe I'm the only
creature alive who cares twopence for the poor old gentleman."

"I know! I know! Mr. Beaumaroy, your position is very difficult. I see
that. It really is. But, would you take the money for yourself? Aren't
you--well, rather in the position of a trustee?"

"Who for? The hated cousins? What's the reason in that?"

"They may be very good people really. Old men take fancies, as you said
yourself. And they may have built on--"

"Stepping into a dead man's shoes? I dare say. Why mayn't I build on it
too? Why not my hand against the other fellow's?"

"That's what you learnt from the war! You said so--at Old Place. Captain
Naylor said something different."

"Suppose Alec Naylor and I, a hero and a damaged article," he smiled at
Mary, and she smiled back with a sudden enjoyment of the humorous yet
bitter tang in his voice, "loved the same woman, and I had a chance of
her. Am I to give it up?"

"Really we're getting a long way from medicine, Mr. Beaumaroy!"

"Oh, you're a general practitioner! Wise on all subjects under heaven!
Conceive yourself hesitating between him and me--"

Mary laughed frankly. "How absurd