for one thing, and the range simply eats up coal, and there is no proper
pantry. Your wife would want to know about these things."

"Haven't got a wife," said Peter Reid gruffly.

"No? Well, your housekeeper, then. You couldn't buy a house without
getting to know all about the hot water and pantries."

"There is no question of my buying it."

"Oh, isn't there?" cried Jean joyfully. "What a relief! All the time
I've been showing you the house I've been picturing us removing sadly to
a villa in the Langhope Road. They are quite nice villas as villas go,
but they have only tiny strips of gardens, and stairs that come to meet
you as you go in at the front door, and anyway no house could ever be
home to us after The Rigs--not though it had hot and cold water in every
room and a pantry on every floor."

"Dear me," said Peter Reid.

He felt perplexed, and annoyed with himself for being perplexed. All he
had to do was to tell this girl with the frank eyes that The Rigs was
his, that he wanted to live in it himself, that if they would turn out
at once he would make it worth their while. Quite simple--They were nice
people evidently, and would make no fuss. He would say it now--but Jean
was speaking.

"I think I know why you wanted to see through this house," she was
saying. "I think you must have known it long ago when you were a boy.
Perhaps you loved it too--and had to leave it."