"If we could have our water till then, that's what we'd do. As it is—well, I'm afraid we can't afford to."
"I've already offered——"
"I know, I know," he interrupted; "but that's out of the question."
That evening dragged. There were long silences. Nobody seemed inclined to talk. Wade went to sleep in his chair, his cigar dropping from his relaxing fingers. He grumbled when his wife woke him.
"I'm dead sleepy. I'm going to bed. I'm too sleepy to care whether it's polite or not; I'm all in."
"So am I," said Kitty, yawning frankly. "I shall follow my lord and master."
"And I my amiable chaperon," said Clyde.
"I'm afraid all I have to follow is an example," said Casey. He came close to her in the moonlight. "Perhaps I seemed ungrateful this afternoon. I didn't mean to be. I can't tell you how much I appreciated your offer, your generosity; none the less because I can't possibly accept it."
"It is nothing," she said. "It is not even generosity. Real generosity must cost something in renunciation."
"No," he replied; "the cost has little to do with it. It is the spirit of the offer that counts. Don't belittle it."