Agonising appeals to Mrs. Grange led her to relieve as much as possible Nina's situation, and to leave her by will, with Teresa's con- sent, two-thirds of the small property on which the other two had lived. Nina had been the mother's favourite, Teresa the father's; it was to Teresa that he left his books, and the book-plate and gold seal and few pieces of plate descended from English ancestors; and the sword of her grandfather, the slaveholder and rebel general, whom the New England part of the family repudiated. Konald Grange had little more to leave—except a memory to Teresa full of pathetic charm.
When Teresa married, she said to Basil Ransome:
"I shall keep my rooms, you know, in case we don't get on." And he, gaily admitting the provisory nature of their arrangement, had yet a jealous pang, which he concealed as little as he concealed anything else from her. For the wary Teresa had not seemed even half-tamed when he did succeed in marrying her, and how much she was won was known only to herself. They had now had a year together, and had got on marvellously, though with frequent quarrels. Teresa had not even once desired to retreat to her bachelor independence. In her flat lived a young woman, an art student whom
