es, but he was frequently very far away from the clear, impersonal
truth about them. Only the brilliant logic and sensitiveness of genius
really approaches knowledge of itself, and as a result it is usually
extremely unhappy. Walderhurst was never unhappy. He was sometimes
dissatisfied or annoyed, but that was as far as his emotions went.

Being pleased by the warm touch of Emily's hand, he patted her wrist and
looked agreeably marital.

"The place was built originally for a family huntsman, and the pack was
kept there. That is why it is called The Kennel Farm. When the last
lease fell out it remained unlet because I don't care for an ordinary
tenant. It's the kind of house that is becoming rare, and the bumpkin
farmer and his family don't value antiquities."

"If it were furnished as it _could_ be furnished," said Emily, "it would
be _beautiful_. One _can_ get old things in London if one can afford
them. I've seen them when I've been shopping. They are not cheap, but
you can get them if you really search."

"Would you like to furnish it?" Walderhurst inquired. The consciousness
that he could, if he chose, do the utmost thing of its kind in this way,
at the moment assumed a certain proportion of interest to him under the
stimulation of the wonder and delight which leaped into Emily's eyes as
the possibility confronted her. Having been born without imagination,
his wealth had not done for him anything out of the ordinary every-day
order.

"Would I _like_ to do it? Oh, _dear_!" she exclaimed. "Why, in all my
life I have never _dreamed_ of being able to do such things."

That, of course, was true, he reflected, and the fact added to his
appreciation of the moment. There were, of course, many people to whom
it would be impossible to contemplate the spending of a sum of money of
any importance in the indulgence of a wish founded on mere taste. He had
not thought of the thing particularly in detail before, and now that he
realised the significance of the fact as a fact, Emily had afforded him
a new sensation.

"You may do it now, if you wish," he said. "I once went over the place
with an architect, and he said the whole thing could be made comfortable
and the atmosphere of the period wholly retained for about a thousand
pounds. It is not really dilapidated and it is worth saving. The gables
and chimneys are very fine. I will attend to that, and you can do the
rest in your own way."

"It may take a good deal of money