"When do you move to town?" he inquired.

However simple Mr. Brent's methods of reasoning may appear to others, his
apparent clairvoyance never failed to startle Honora.

"Somebody has told you that I've been looking at houses!" she exclaimed.

"Have you found one?"

She hesitated.

"Yes--I have found one. It belongs to some people named Farnham--they're
divorced."

"Dicky Farnham's ex-wife," he supplied. "I know where it is
--unexceptionable neighbourhood and all that sort of thing."

"And it's just finished," continued Honora, her enthusiasm gaining on her
as she spoke of the object which had possessed her mind for four hours.
"It's the most enchanting house, and so sunny for New York. If I had
built it myself it could not have suited me better. Only--"

"Only--" repeated Trixton Brent, smiling.

"Well," she said slowly, "I really oughtn't to talk about it. I--I
haven't said anything to Howard yet, and he may not like it. I ran across
it by the merest accident."

"What will you give me," he said, "if I can induce Howard to like it?"