"I am." Davenant nodded with some emphasis.
"Did you think that that was what I meant when I—I opened my heart to you last night?"
"No. I know it wasn't. My offer is inspired by nothing but what I feel."
"Good!" It was some minutes before Guion spoke again. "If I remember rightly," he observed then, "I said I would sell my soul for half a million dollars. I didn't say I wanted to borrow that amount."
"You may put it in any way you like," Davenant smiled. "I've come with the offer of the money. I want you to have it. The terms on which you'd take it don't matter to me."
"But they do to me. Don't you see? I'd borrow the money if I could. I couldn't accept it in any other way. And I can't borrow it. I couldn't pay the interest on it if I did. But I've exhausted my credit. I can't borrow any more."
"You can borrow what I'm willing to lend, can't you?"
"No; because Tory Hill is mortgaged for all it will stand. I've nothing else to offer as collateral—"
"I'm not asking for collateral. I'm ready to hand you over the money on any terms you like or on no terms at all."
"Do you mean that you'd be willing to—to—to give it to me?"