“As poor Cecil’s widow, I think my feelings ought to have been considered,” said the lady, touching her eyelashes gingerly with the handkerchief. “But Roger was always most peculiar⁠—not to say mean ⁠—about money matters. It has been a most difficult position for both Flora and myself. He did not even give the poor child an allowance. He would pay her bills, you know, and even that with a good deal of reluctance and asking what she wanted all those fal-lals for⁠—so like a man⁠—but⁠—now I’ve forgotten what it was I was going to say! Oh, yes, not a penny we could call our own, you know. Flora resented it⁠—yes, I must say she resented it⁠—very strongly. Though devoted to her uncle, of course. But any girl would have resented it. Yes, I must say Roger had very strange ideas about money. He wouldn’t even buy new face towels, though I told him the old ones were in holes. And then,” proceeded Mrs. Ackroyd, with a sudden leap highly characteristic of her conversation, “to leave all that money⁠—a thousand pounds⁠—fancy, a thousand pounds!⁠—to that woman.”

“What woman?”