I closed the shutters and darkened it to suit my eyes, which ached, and I think must have fallen asleep.
The parlor was the room which adjoined the dining-room (only two large rooms on one floor, as they used to build), and separated from it by heavy mahogany columns and sliding-doors.

These doors were half-way open, and I was roused by voices in the parlor.

As soon as I recovered myself from the sudden waking, I recognized Sophie's and then Richard's.
I wondered what Richard was doing up-town at that hour, and so Sophie did too, for she asked him very plainly.
"I thought I ought to come to see Pauline," she said, "but I did not suppose I should find you here in the middle of the day." "There is something that I've got to see Pauline about at once," he said, "and so I was obliged to come up-town." "Nothing has happened ?" she said interrogatively.
"No," he answered, evasively.
But she went on: "I suppose it's something in relation to the will; I hope she's well provided for, poor thing." "Sophie," said her brother, with a change of tone, "You'll have to hear it some time, and perhaps you may as well hear it now.

It is that that I have come up-town about; there has been some strange mistake made; there is no will." "No will!" echoed Sophie, "Why, you told me once--" "That he had left her everything.

So he told me twice last year; so I have always believed to be the case.