background of dark green woods. Below the wavelets lapped the shingle
with melodious rhythm. As far as the eye could see lay the bosom of
the ocean unruffled, and lustrous with the sheen of the dying day.
Accustomed to prevail in buying his way, he could not resist saying,
after a moment of silence:

"If I were to increase my offer to a million would it make any
difference in your attitude?"

A suppressed gurgle of mingled surprise and amusement escaped Miss
Carry.

Miss Rebecca paused a moment by way of politeness to one so generous.
But her tone when she spoke was unequivocal, and a shade sardonic.

"Not the least, Mr. Anderson. To tell the truth, we should scarcely
understand the difference."




II


One summer afternoon two years later the Ripley sisters were again
drinking tea in their attractive summer-house. In the interval the
peaceful current of their lives had been stirred to its depths by
unlooked-for happenings. Very shortly after their refusal of Mr.
Anderson's offer, their only brother, whose home was on the Hudson
within easy distance of New York, had died suddenly. He was a widower;