behaved honestly towards Julian.  But neither Louis nor Batchgrew seemed to realize the point.  They both apparently flattered themselves with much simplicity upon the partiality of the lifelong friend and valuer for Louis, without perceiving the logical deduction that if he was partial he was a rascal.  Further, Thomas Batchgrew “rubbed Rachel the wrong way” by subtly emphasizing his own marvellous abilities as a trustee and executor, and by assuring Louis repeatedly that all conceivable books of account, correspondence, and documents were open for his inspection at any time.  Batchgrew, in Rachel’s opinion, might as well have said, “You naturally suspect me of being a knave, but I can prove to you that you are wrong.”

Finally, they came to the grand total of Louis’ inheritance, which Rachel had known by heart for several days past; yet Batchgrew rolled it out as a piece of tremendous news, and immediately afterwards hinted that the sum represented less than the true worth of Louis’ inheritance, and that he, Batchgrew, as well as his lifelong friend the valuer, had been influenced by a partiality for Louis.  For example, he had contrived to put all the house property, except the house at Bycars, into Julian’s share; which was extremely advantageous for Louis because the federation of the Five Towns into one borough had rendered property values the most capricious and least calculable of all worldly possessions....  And Louis tried to smile knowingly at the knowing trustee and executor with his amiable partiality for one legatee as against the other.  Louis’ share, beyond the Bycars house, was in the gilt-edged stock of limited companies which sold water and other necessaries of life to the public on their own terms.

Rachel left the pair for a moment, and returned from upstairs with a grey jacket of Louis’ from which she had to unstitch the black crepe armlet announcing to the world Louis’ grief for his dead great-aunt; the period of mourning was long over, and it would not have been quite nice for Louis to continue announcing his grief.

As she came back into the room she heard the word “debentures,” and that single word changed her mood instantly from bland feminine toleration to porcupinish defensiveness.  She did not, as a fact, know what debentures were.  She could not for a fortune have defined the difference between a debenture and a share.  She only knew that debentures were connected with “limited companies”—­not waterworks companies, which she classed with the Bank of England—­but just any limited companies, which were in her mind a bottomless pit for the savings of the foolish.  She had an idea that a debenture was, if anything, more fatal than a share.  She was, of course, quite wrong, according to general principles; but, unfortunately, women, as all men sooner or later learn, have a disconcerting habit of being right in the wrong way for the wrong reasons.  In a single moment, without justification, she had