I want you to appoint me steward
to your property, your affairs, for life."
"Life!" she exclaimed. "Life!"
"My life," answered Pratt. "And let me tell you--you'll find me a
first-class man--a good, faithful, honest servant. I'll do well by you
and yours. You'll never regret it as long as you live. It'll be the best
day's work you've ever done. I'll look after your son's
interests--everybody's interests--as if they were my own. As indeed," he
added, with a sly glance, "they will be."
Mrs. Mallathorpe realized the finality, the resolve, in all this--but
she made one more attempt.
"Ten thousand!" she said. "Come, now!--think what ten thousand pounds in
cash would mean to you!"
"No--nor twenty thousand," replied Pratt. "I've made up my mind. I'll
have my own terms. It's no use--not one bit of use--haggling or
discussing matters further. I'm in possession of the will--and therefore
of the situation, Mrs. Mallathorpe, you've just got to do what I tell
you!"
He got up from his chair, and going over to a side-table took from it a
blotting-pad, some writing paper and a pencil. For the moment his back
was turned--and again he did not see the look of almost murderous hatred
which came into his visitor's eyes; had he seen and understood it, he
might even then have reconsidered matters and taken Mrs. Mallathorpe's
last offer.
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