He smiled at her. "Especially in the last hour?" he suggested.
"I had changed before that. I had been changing right along. But I didn't realize it fully until you talked with me—no, until after you gave me your card this morning."
"You saw a chance—a hope—eh?"
She nodded.
"And at once became all nerves and courage. . . . As to Spenser—I'll have some play carpenter sent to collaborate with him and set him up in the play business. You know it's a business as well as an art. And the chromos sell better than the oil paintings—except the finest ones. It's my chromos that have earned me the means and the leisure to try oils."
"He'd never consent. He's very proud."
"Vain, you mean. Pride will consent to anything as a means to an end. It's vanity that's squeamish and haughty. He needn't know."
"But I couldn't discuss any change with him until he's much better."
"I'll send the play carpenter to him—get Fitzalan to send one of his carpenters." Brent smiled. "You don't think he'll hang back because of the compact, do you?"
Susan flushed painfully. "No," she admitted in a low voice.