their income. The
only thing was to throw out a feeler.

"You are wanting a nice home, I take it, that can be bought at a
favourable price for cash. You would consider an investment of
say----."

He paused, and Mrs. Hardy supplied the information for which he was
waiting. "About twenty-five thousand dollars," she said.

"We can hardly invest that much," Irene interrupted, in a whisper. "We
must have something to live on."

"People here live on the profits of their investments, do they not, Mr.
Conward?" Mrs. Hardy inquired. "I have been told that that is the way
they live, and they seem to live very well indeed."

"Oh, certainly," Conward agreed, and he plunged into a mass of
incidents to show how profitable investments had been to other clients
of the firm. He emphasized particularly the desirability of buying
improved property--preferably residential property--and suddenly
recalled that he had something very choice in which they might be
interested. At this juncture Conward's mood of deliberation gave way
to one of briskness; he summoned a car, and in a few minutes his
clients were looking over the property which he had recommended. Mrs.
Hardy, who, during her husband's lifetime had never found it necessary
to bear financial responsibilities or make business decisions, was an
amateurish buyer, her tendency being alternately to excess of caution
on one side and recklessness on the other. Conward's manner pleased
her; the house he showed pleased her, and she was eager to have it over
with. But he was too shrewd to appear to encourage a hasty decision.
He realized at once that he had sold Mrs. Hardy, but Irene was a
customer calling for more tactful handling. Conward's eye had not
failed to appraise the charm of the young woman's appearance. He would
gladly have ingratiated himself with her, but he was conscious of a
force in her personality that held him aloof. And that consciousness
made him desire the more to gain her confidence. . . . However, this
was a business transaction. He did not seize upon Mrs. Hardy's remark
that the house seemed perfectly satisfactory; on the contrary, he
insisted on showing other houses, which he quoted at such impossible
figures that presently the old lady was in a feverish haste to make a
deposit lest some other buyer should forestall her.

Back in Conward's office, while the agreement was being drawn, Irene
was possessed of a consuming desire to consult with Dave E