"Oh, no hurry, Mrs. Arch. I was hoping you would be my guests tonight—"
"No, thanks. With all due regard for you, I don't want to be put under a moral obligation before business is discussed."
Gilmer chuckled amiably and repeated the idea he had broached.
"I like Westfield," said Elizabeth. "I don't like New York. It isn't fit for human consumption."
"Oh, I quite agree," said Gilmer. "Once a year I have to break loose—cabin up in Maine, hunting, fishing, back to Nature—you really must come up sometime soon. Your objection can be answered easily enough. We could set up a laboratory for you here, if you really insist. You see, we're prepared to be very generous."
Arch shook his head. "No," he said harshly. "No, thanks. I like being independent."
Gilmer raised his brows. "I understand that. But after all, the only difference would be—"
Arch grinned. He was enjoying himself now. On a dark day some years ago, he had tried to raise a bank loan and had failed for lack of collateral and credit rating and his refusal to subject any friend to co-signing. Ever since, he had indulged daydreams about having finance come crawling to him. The reality was intoxicating.
"No," he repeated. "That's all I want to say about it, too. The income from capacitite will be quite enough for us. If you want to discuss a license to manufacture, go ahead."
"Hrm! As you wish." Gilmer smoothed the coldness out of his voice. "Maybe you'll change your mind later. If so, feel free to call on me anytime. Now, for an assignment of rights, I think a sum of fifty thousand dollars could be arranged—"