'You're engaged?'
'Yes.'
'Well!' She forced another laugh. 'How very--rapid of you! To
whom?'
'To Elizabeth Boyd.'
'I'm afraid I'm very ignorant, but who is Elizabeth Boyd? The
ornate lady you were dancing with at the restaurant?'
'No!'
'Who then?'
'She is old Ira Nutcombe's niece. The money ought to have been
left to her. That was why I came over to America, to see if I
could do anything for her.'
'And you're going to marry her? How very romantic--and convenient!
What an excellent arrangement for her. Which of you suggested it?'
Bill drew in a deep breath. All this was, he supposed,
unavoidable, but it was not pleasant.
Claire suddenly abandoned her pose of cool amusement. The fire
behind it blazed through.
'You fool!' she cried passionately. 'Are you blind? Can't you see
that this girl is simply after your money? A child could see it.'
Bill looked at her steadily.
'You're quite wrong. She doesn't know who I am.'
'Doesn't know who you are? What do you mean? She must know by this
time that her uncle left his money to you.'
'But she doesn't know that I am Lord Dawlish. I came to America
under another name. She knows me as Chalmers.'
Claire was silent for a moment.
'How did you get to know her?' she asked, more quietly.
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