“You like it?” he smiled, holding the hand.
She flushed with the effort to express herself. “I adore it. I can't thank you.”
“Please don't,” he answered. “You don't know what pleasure this gives me. Come as soon as you can; everything is ready for you.”
“And about the rent?” she asked, hating to speak of money, but knowing Stefan would forget.
“Dear Mrs. Byrd, I had so much rather lend it, but I know you wouldn't like that. Pay me what you paid for your first home in New York.”
“Oh, but that would be absurd,” she demurred.
“Make that concession to my pride in our friendship,” he smiled back.
She saw that she could not refuse without ungraciousness. Stefan had disappeared, but now came quickly in from the kitchen door.
“Farraday,” he called, “I've been looking at the barn; you don't use it, I see. If we come, should you mind my having a north light cut in it? With that it would make an ideal workshop.”
“I should be delighted,” the other answered; “it's a good idea and will make the place more valuable. I had the barn cleaned out thinking some one might like it for a garage.”