“Barbara!” he cried, in a low voice of yearning.
She looked up at him, startled, afraid. He perceived this, and the next instant his features had resumed their expression of cold serenity.
“I was about to tell you that any excessive anxiety on your part is wholly unnecessary,” he said. “You will certainly be notified at least a week in advance. And—as my client is situated at present—I think I may predict with tolerable certainty that the call will not come before—autumn.”
Her face brightened.
“In October,” she said, “we shall harvest the orchards. Then I could pay back the money.”
A swift shadow crossed his face.
“Money; is it of that you must always be thinking?” he asked.
“You know that I must,” she said proudly. “I could not rest under so heavy an obligation to—anyone.”
“No,” he agreed. “I see that—I understand.”
A melancholy smile touched his lips.