"Yes," she murmured, in a low voice.
"And the house seems not unsuitable for such a purpose. I have not been over the house."
"Fox! Will you tell me what you mean?"
He laughed out. "The old skinflint who lives there says he can't sell it. He seemed very intelligent, too; intellect enough to name a price if he wanted to. And I would not stick at the price if it were within the bounds of reason."
"I think," Mrs. Ladue remarked, "that I could tell you why your old skinflint couldn't sell it."
"Why?" Fox asked peremptorily.
"When you have shown me all you have to show," she answered, the look of quiet amusement again about her eyes and mouth, "I will tell you; that is, if you tell me first what you mean."
He continued looking for a few moments in silence. She bore his scrutiny as calmly as she could. Then he turned, quickly, and drew the reins tight.
"Get up, you ancient scion of a livery stable." The horse started reluctantly. "There is something else," he added, "just down the road a bit."