She smiled and shook her head.

"I'm not at all the sort of person you appear to think me," she said.
Her grave blue eyes looked straight into his. "But don't let's waste
time trying to be clever: I want to ask you if you are willing, for a
fair salary, to take charge of the outdoor improvements at Bolton
House."

She colored swiftly at sight of the quizzical lift of his brows.

"I've decided to call my place 'Bolton House' for several reasons,"
she went on rapidly: "for one thing, everybody has always called it
the Bolton place, so it will be easier for the workmen and everybody
to know what place is meant. Besides, I--"

"Yes; but the name of Bolton has an ill-omened sound in Brookville
ears," he objected. "You've no idea how people here hate that man."

"It all happened so long ago, I should think they might forgive him
by now," she offered, after a pause.

"I wouldn't call my house after a thief," he said strongly. "There
are hundreds of prettier names. Why not--Pine Court, for example?"

"You haven't told me yet if you will accept the position I spoke of."

He passed his hand over his clean-shaven chin, a trick he had
inherited from his father, and surveyed her steadily from under
meditative brows.