"I'll make you a present of Kuklin."
Roman's handsome face filled with astonishment. Though not a mean man, Ian had the reputation of being exceedingly careful. He gave freely to causes which he thought furthered the prosperity of his country; but was wary of giving for the sake of giving, or for the popularity that comes to the open-handed. Roman knew him well; he realized that this offer meant more than cousinship; it meant affection and a firm belief that he would settle down and "make good." He was touched, and said so in his ardent way.
"So you're willing? That's right. I'll go to Kuklin tomorrow and wire when you can see it." The other's face clouded, so he added hastily: "You needn't come to Ruvno. I'll meet you at the station, the owner will give us something to eat and I'll motor you back here. We'll have to settle with the Jews before you actually buy, or you'll get no terms from them. I'll go to Posen with you."
"Old man, you're the best friend I ever had," cried Roman, wringing his hand. "I can't tell you how I feel about it. But..."
"What 'but'?"
"I don't believe I could bury myself in the country--now. With Vanda it would have been different. Can't you understand?"
"No, I can't." He was disappointed. He had never felt lonely in his life, never knew the yearning after hot, brightly lighted restaurants filled with men and women on excitement bent.
"You won't want to come to Warsaw," he argued. "You don't know how land draws you. You'll have to drag yourself here when you've some special business and hurry back as quick as can be."
Roman doubted it, but gave up the argument. They parted on the understanding that he should telegraph when he had made up his mind.
Though he found Joseph still at Ruvno Ian showed a cheerful face and calm exterior. He felt completely master of himself again and talked freely of the coming marriage. The Countess was full of it.