"But Ted is going to succeed to it," replied Anthony without looking up.
"I wish you could persuade him of that," she said. "I've tried; but I only make him excited. He says it's God's punishment on him for his sins and apparently argues from that that he may just as well go on sinning. If Ted could get well enough to come home, if only for a few days, it might make all the difference."
"Don't you think he could?" suggested Anthony.
"Not to Millsborough," she answered. She glanced out of the window at the everlasting smoke that was rolling slowly up the valley towards the sea. "I wanted him to take The Abbey—Sir William Coomber's old place up on the moor—it is still to let. But this woman seems to have got firmly hold of him at last. My fear is that she'll marry him. Poor dad! He's such a kid."
"Has he known her long?" asked Anthony.
"She was our governess when Ted and I were children," Betty answered. "She was a pretty woman, but I always hated her. It was instinct, I suppose. She married soon after she left us, and went back to France, but returned to London when her husband died about six years ago. I'd rather anything than that he should marry her. To see
