"I could make the eight ten—in a week—if you were satisfactory."
"I wasn't considering the money—"
"How?"
"I wasn't considering the money."
"Oh! Come in. Try it." An eagerness was apparent in his tone. While Hugo still halted on a knoll of indecision, a woman opened the French windows which lined one façade of the house and stepped down from the porch. She was very tall and very slender. Her eyes were slaty blue and there was a delicate suggestion—almost an apparition—of grey in her hair.
"What is it, Ralph?" Her voice was cool and pitched low.
"This is my wife," Cane said.
"My name is Danner."
Cane explained. "I saw this man standing by the gate, and now I'm hiring him."
"I see," she said. She looked at Hugo. The crystalline substance of her eyes glinted transiently with some inwardness—surprise, a vanishing gladness, it might have been. "You are looking for work?"