Had there been design behind the invitation?
Bill began to walk slowly to the house. He felt tired and unhappy.
He meant to go to bed and try to sleep away these wretched doubts
and questionings. Daylight would bring relief.
As he reached the open front door he caught the sound of voices,
and paused for an instant, almost unconsciously, to place them.
They came from one of the rooms upstairs. It was Nutty speaking
now, and it was impossible for Bill not to hear what he said, for
Nutty had abandoned his customary drawl in favour of a high,
excited tone.
'Of course, you hate him and all that,' said Nutty; 'but after all
you will be getting five million dollars that ought to have come
to--'
That was all that Bill heard, for he had stumbled across the hall
and was in his room, sitting on the bed and staring into the
darkness with burning eyes. The door banged behind him.
So it was true!
There came a knock at the door. It was repeated. The handle
turned.
'Is that you, Bill?'
It was Elizabeth's voice. He could just see her, framed in the
doorway.
'Bill!'
His throat was dry. He swallowed, and found that he could speak.
'Yes?'
'Did you just come in?'
'Yes.'
'Then--you heard?'
'Yes.'
There was a long silence. Then the door closed gently and he heard
her go upstairs.
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