“Mine.”
“Yours—have you bought it?”
“Yes, I put the deed in my safe deposit vault yesterday. Come in here. Isn’t this a cunning little guest chamber nested in the trees? Be becoming to Betty’s style of beauty, wouldn’t it?” He held the door open for her ingratiatingly, and she passed under his arm perfunctorily.
“What on earth did you buy a house like this for?”
“I thought you might like it.”
“I—what have I to do with it?”
Dick turned the rusty key in the lock deliberately, and put it in his pocket, thus closing them into the little musty room which had no other exit. A branch of flaming maple leaves tapped lightly on the window.
“You’ve a whole lot to do with it, Nancy,” he said. “It’s yours, and I’m yours, and I want to know how much longer you’re going to hedge.”
“I’m not hedging,” Nancy blazed. “Take that key out of your pocket. This is moving-picture stuff.”