"Only to the old homestead, Berkeley Hill. Nothing else."
They looked at each other across the table, Daniel's small, keen eyes meeting steadily her faintly troubled ones.
"Did you think I had money, Daniel?"
"What is the homestead supposed to be worth and how many heirs are there?"
"Hattie and I own it. I don't know what it is worth. It is awfully out of repair, you know."
"But Walter pays you rent, of course, for your share in it?"
"Oh, no, he couldn't afford to."
"Couldn't afford to? When they live like millionaires! Oriental rugs, a butler to wait on the table, solid silver, and expensive china—anyway, it looked expensive. And they can't afford to pay you rent?"
"All those things were inherited, Daniel, along with the place, the butler included."
"Then you own those rugs and that silver and china?"