I suppose he was, or he'd have written, or something.

She had lots and lots of money and property, you know.
"Well," Josephine took one of Ford's hand and patted it reassuringly, "she got the notion that I must marry Frank, when he came home.

I tried to reason her out of that, and it only made her worse.

It grew on her, and I got so I couldn't bear to write any more letters, and that made it worse still.

She made a will that I must marry Frank within a year after she died, or he wouldn't get anything but a hundred dollars--and she was worth thousands and thousands." Josephine snuggled closer.