"You'd get a treasure," avowed Miss Ri, shaking her head wisely. "She doesn't have to air her family silver in order to make people forget her mistakes in English."
"True, O wisest of women."
"There's another way out of it, Berk; the place reverts to Verlinda in the event of Grace's death."
"Do you mean I shall poison her or use a dagger, Lady Macbeth?"
"You great goose, of course I don't mean either such horrible thing. I was only letting my thoughts run on the possibilities of the case. I'm not quite so degenerate as to wish for anyone's death, but I haven't found out yet why you were looking into the family procession of names."
"Oh, just a mere matter of legal curiosity, as I said. I come across them once in a while, and I wanted to get them straight in my mind. James, son of Martin, son of Madison, son of James; that's it, isn't it?" He checked them off on his fingers.
"That's it."
"Well, good-night, Miss Ri. I won't keep you any longer from that fascinating book at which you've been casting stealthy glances ever since I came in. Don't get up; I can let myself out."
Miss Ri did not immediately return to the book. "Now, what is he driving at?" she said to herself. "It's all poppycock about his interest in the names because he wants to get them straight in his mind. He's not so interested in Verlinda as all that, worse luck. I wish he were." She gave a little sigh and, adjusting her glasses, returned to the page before her.