his estate, apart from the amount to be paid to
you--" She winced perceptibly--"aside from that amount is to go to various
charities and institutions devoted to the betterment of the human race. I
need not add that these institutions are of a scientific character. I
wanted you to know beforehand that I shall profit in no way by the death
of my grandfather." After a significant pause he repeated distinctly: "I
shall profit _in no way_."

She lowered her eyes for an instant. "I think I understand, Braden," she
said, looking up to meet his gaze unwaveringly. Her voice was low, even
husky. She saw finality in his eyes.

"He seemed to feel that I ought to know of the clause I mention,"
explained Braden dully. "Perhaps he thought it would--it might be an
inducement to me to--to go ahead. God! What a thought!"

"He allowed you to read it?"

"A copy, last night. The real instrument was produced to-day by Judge
Hollenback at my request, and the change was made in the presence of
witnesses."

"Where is it now?"

"Judge Hollenback took it away with him. That's all I know about it."

"I am sorry," she said, a queer glint in her eyes. "Sorry he took it away
with him, I mean. There is nothing I can do--now."

She sent for her mother that night. The next morning Simmy Dodge came down
with George Tresslyn, who steadfastly refused to enter the house but rode
to the hospital with his mother and sister in Simmy's automobile. Anne did
not see Braden again after that momentous interview in the library. He had
effaced himself.

Now she sat in the window looking down into the street, dull and listless
and filled with the dread of the future that had once looked so engaging
to her. The picture that avarice and greed had painted was gone. In its
place was an honest bit of colour on the canvas,--a drab colour and
noteless.

Mrs. Tresslyn, unmoved and apparently disinterested, ran idly through the
pages of an illustrated periodical. Her furs lay across a chair in the
corner of the room. They were of chinchilla and expressed a certain
arrogance that could not be detached by space from the stately figure with
the lorgnon. The year had done little toward bending that proud head. The
cold, classic beauty of this youngish mother of the other occupants of the
room was as yet absolutely unmarred by the worries that come with
disillusionment. If she felt rebellious scorn for the tall disappointment
who still bore and always would bear the ho