"Why should he think that?" Jake's eyes, piercingly bright, suddenly met hers.
She winced involuntarily, as one might wince from the glare of a searchlight. Then, with a visible effort, she met them. "Jake," she said, "I--want to talk to you."
Jake's eyes fell away from her. They went with a sombre directness to the fire and became fixed. "About your affairs, my girl?" he said.
She hesitated momentarily; then: "Our affairs, Jake," she said, her voice very low.
He jerked his head as if to indicate attention, but he said nothing further. It remained for her to proceed, and she did so, slowly, as if carefully weighing each word.
"You have left me a free hand in the settling of Uncle Edward's affairs, and Mr. Craven is a very clever business man. I know Uncle Edward trusted him implicitly. But I should like you to know everything that has been done--that is, if you care to know." She paused a moment. "You do care, don't you, Jake?" she said.
"I care for your welfare, my girl," he made answer. "Not being your trustee, it's not essential that I should be told every detail."
"I wish you were a trustee," she said.
He bent his head. "Thanks. But I don't know that I am especially well suited to be. It's better for you, I reckon, to have--a free hand. And it's a mighty lot better that you should have a man of education to attend to your business affairs."
"Jake!" There was quick pain in her voice, pain that he could not fail to note. She leaned forward, stretching a hand to him across the hearth. "Jake!" she said again very earnestly. "Do you think that--that I shall ever forget--that I owe you--everything?"