"I meant I misunderstood you," Homer said. "I thought you suggested taking my house away from me."
"I didn't," said the young woman. "If you want to stay, it's all right with me. I'll only be here a few days. The place is much too large for one person."
Homer's jaw dropped. He closed his mouth and bobbed his adam's apple a couple of times. But he was beyond words.
She rose, strode across the room and opened the front door. She stepped out on the porch and Homer felt a momentary relief. It was an illusion. C. J.'s offer had been more of a shock than he thought. Then she appeared again, carrying a black bag.
"Where will I put my things?" she asked.
"Ma'am," said Homer. "I am a gentleman." That, he decided, was the best way to state his position in mixed company.
"What has that got to do with it? I'm a lady."
"Certainly, ma'am, but you must realize that what you're suggesting is—er—most unorthodox. I don't propose to turn my house over to you with or without company. Even if—" Homer clamped his jaw shut for he almost said that the offer was attractive. How could he have said such a thing? He'd hardly known this woman for a full minute.
"Your house? I'll admit your arms and legs are yours, and so no doubt is your hair, your teeth, your eyes and your ears. But how can you say this house is yours?"