"You both refuse the offer," said Mr. Pendril, taking out his pencil,
and making his professional note of the decision. As he shut up his
pocketbook, he glanced toward Magdalen doubtfully. She had roused in
him the latent distrust which is a lawyer's second nature: he had his
suspicions of her looks; he had his suspicions of her language. Her
sister seemed to have mere influence over her than Miss Garth. He
resolved to speak privately to her sister before he went away.
While the idea was passing through his mind, his attention was claimed
by another question from Magdalen.
"Is he an old man?" she asked, suddenly, without turning round from the
window.
"If you mean Mr. Michael Vanstone, he is seventy-five or seventy-six
years of age."
"You spoke of his son a little while since. Has he any other sons--or
daughters?"
"None."
"Do you know anything of his wife?"
"She has been dead for many years."
There was a pause. "Why do you ask these questions?" said Norah.
"I beg your pardon," replied Magdalen, quietly; "I won't ask any more."
For the third time, Mr. Pendril returned to the business of the
interview.
"The servants must not be forgotten," he said.
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