"Well, sir, counting that house complete, without the furniture, seven thousand would be cheap."
After that the financier was silent. He looked at his watch, as they motored down Cerberus, considering, perhaps, the probabilities of a telegram reaching Marcia; but he did not make the venture when they arrived in Wenatchee, and the nearest approach he made to that offer was while he and Banks were waiting at the station for their separate trains. They were seated together on a bench at the time, and Frederic, having lighted a cigar, drew deeply as though he hoped to gather inspiration. Then he edged closer and, dropping his heavy hand on the little prospector's shoulder, said thickly: "See here, tell me this, as man to man, if you found both those tracts too big to handle, what would you take for your option on the Weatherbee property?"
And Banks, edging away to the end of the seat, answered sharply: "I can handle both; my option ain't for sale."
CHAPTER XXIII
THE DAY OF PUBLICATION
It was a mild evening, the last in February, and Jimmie, who had received two copies of the March issue of Sampson's Magazine direct from the publisher, celebrated the event by taking the Society Editor canoeing on Lake Washington. Instead of helping with the bow paddle, of which she was fully capable, Miss Atkins settled against the pillows facing him, with the masterpiece in her lap. The magazine was closed, showing his name among the specially mentioned on the cover, but she kept the place with her finger. She had a pretty hand, and it was adorned by the very best diamond that could be bought at Hanson's for one hundred and fifty dollars.
She waited, watching Jimmie's stroke, while the Peterboro slipped out from the boathouse and rose quartering to the swells of a passing launch. Her hat was placed carefully behind her in the bow, and the light wind roughened her hair, which was parted on the side, into small rings on her forehead. It gave her an air of boyish camaraderie, and the young author's glance, moving from the magazine and the ring, swept her whole trim figure to the mannish, flat-heeled little shoes, and returned to her face. "This is my red-letter day," he said.
"It's the proudest in my life," answered Geraldine, and the way in which she said it made him catch his breath.
"It makes me feel almost sure enough to cut loose from the Press and go into business for myself."
"Oh, I shouldn't be in a hurry to leave the paper, if I were you," she replied, "even though Sampson's has asked to see more of your work."