Mrs. Rush emitted a short, nervous laugh.
Ted Graham glanced around the room, thought: If the rest of the house is like this, it's worth fifty or sixty thousand. He thought of the trailer: A good one, but not worth more than seven thousand.
Uneasiness was like a neon sign flashing in his mind. "This seems so ..." He shook his head.
"Would you like to see the rest of the house?" asked Rush.
Martha Graham turned from the window. "Oh, yes."
Ted Graham shrugged. No harm in looking, he thought.
When they returned to the living room, Ted Graham had doubled his previous estimate on the house's value. His brain reeled with the summing of it: a solarium with an entire ceiling covered by sun lamps, an automatic laundry where you dropped soiled clothing down a chute, took it washed and ironed from the other end ...
"Perhaps you and your wife would like to discuss it in private," said Rush. "We will leave you for a moment."
And they were gone before Ted Graham could protest.
Martha Graham said, "Ted, I honestly never in my life dreamed—"