The woman came forth. About her eyes was a slight redness, but on her lips there was a tremulous smile.
"I'm glad," she said, "I'm glad, John."
"Yes, I decided it was a good trade to make," her husband assured her. "No need to think it over longer."
They came to where Bryant stood, unconcealed pleasure showing on Mrs. Stevenson's face.
"You may like to see these kodak pictures of the farm and its house," the young man said, producing an envelope from a pocket. "Take a chair here by the window, Mrs. Stevenson, where you'll have the light. See, this one shows the house, with the trees and lilac bushes in front, and gives you a glimpse of the flower garden. Pretty, don't you think?"
She readjusted her spectacles. After a time she gazed from the pictures through the window at the stretch of sagebrush.
"And I'll have neighbours, too," she said, in an unsteady voice. "The loneliness here was killing me."
Stevenson considered the backs of his hands in awkward silence.
"Neighbours, lots of them," Bryant affirmed.
"I kind of pity you having to stay," she said, looking up at him with a smile.