"Very?"
"Well—yes, very. The business has paid, investments have panned out. I got a good cash purchase price."
"How much can I spend a year?" she persisted. "It doesn't matter whether it's much or little, but I want to know."
"What a mercenary little creature!" he cried facetiously, then sobered as he saw by the expression of her face that this, apparently trivial thing meant a great deal to her. "Oh, fifty thousand or so won't cripple us."
"A year?" she breathed, awed.
He nodded.
"Oh!" she cried rapidly. "Then we'll have a house—a house built for our very own selves, our very own plans!"
"Why, I thought we were very comfortable here!" he protested, a little dismayed. "Haven't we room enough? I'll make Rebinot cut a door——"
"No! no! no! a house of my own!" She was on fire with excitement, walking restlessly up and down. He watched her a moment or so. His slower imagination was kindling. He was beginning to grasp the symbolism of it, what it meant to her, the release of long-pent secret desires. As she passed him, he seized her and drew her gently to his knee.
"Patsy!" he cried contritely, "I didn't realize! I didn't guess you weren't perfectly contented here!"