So
they've sold their house and decided to go abroad to live permanently;
there's a villa near Florence they've often talked of buying. And they
want father to let them have their share of the estate now, instead of
waiting for him to leave it to them in his will."
"Well, I suppose that's fair enough," George said. "That is, in case
he intended to leave them a certain amount in his will."
"Of course that's understood, Georgie. Father explained his will to
us long ago; a third to them, and a third to brother George, and a
third to us."
Her son made a simple calculation in his mind. Uncle George was a
bachelor, and probably would never marry; Sydney and Amelia were
childless. The Major's only grandchild appeared to remain the
eventual heir of the entire property, no matter if the Major did turn
over to Sydney a third of it now. And George had a fragmentary vision
of himself, in mourning, arriving to take possession of a historic
Florentine villa--he saw himself walking up a cypress-bordered path,
with ancient carven stone balustrades in the distance, and servants in
mourning livery greeting the new signore.
Pages:
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191