But when they were seated the man frowned with displeasure. "Alice, I
wish to goodness there was some way to make these men about the place
keep a closer watch of things."

She glanced at him quickly. "Has something gone wrong, Adam?"

"Nothing more than usual," he answered, harshly. "There are always a
lot of prowlers around. But they don't stay long when I get after
them." He laughed, shortly--a mirthless, shamefaced laugh.

"I am sorry you were annoyed," she said, gently.

"Annoyed!" he returned, with the manner of a petulant child. "I'll
annoy _them_. I tell you I am not going to stand for a lot of people's
coming here, sneaking and prying around to see what they can see. If
anybody wants to enjoy a place like this let him work for it as I
have."

She waited a while before she said, as if feeling her way toward a
definite point, "It has been hard work, hasn't it, Adam? Almost too
hard, I fear. Did you ever ask yourself if, after all, it is really
worth the cost?"

"Worth the cost! I am not in the habit of paying more than things are
worth. This place cost me exactly--"

She interrupted him, quietly, "I don't mean that, dear. I was not
thinking of the money. I was thinking of what it has all cost in work
and worry and--and other things."