"You always know how things are," murmured Joan gratefully, pressing his hand....
Archie walked with him to the car-station.
"You think she's looking well, sir?" he asked as soon as they were out of earshot.
"Better than well, Blair. Content."
The husband sighed with satisfaction. "I think so myself—though of course it's the kid who's done that, not me—Mr. Nikolai, I've got to talk to you on business. How big a hurry are you in for that money you lent me?"
"None at all," answered the other pleasantly. "I've accumulated a good deal of moss for such a rolling-stone—a racial trait, perhaps! Take your time. You've already paid me more than half, I think."
"Joan's book did most of that, not me," admitted Archie, flushing. "Though of course I'm going to pay her back."
"Don't," said the other.
"Don't! Why not?"
"Our only hold upon such as Joan is—our need of them."