Jane opened the door of a small bedroom to the left of the hallway well in the rear of the house. It was Speedy's former abode. Very clean and neatly if sparsely furnished, it lacked light and was, as Jane had confessed, very small.
Nevertheless, with hardly more than a perfunctory glance at the room, Carter said, "I'll take it. I'll bring my stuff right down."
"But you haven't even asked me the price!" Jane protested, puzzled.
"To be sure. Very careless of me." Carter said, in some confusion.
"It's ten dollars a week—payable in advance."
"Here's twenty dollars—two weeks in advance," Carter laughed.
Jane took the proffered bill. She was still uncertain as to what had brought such a suave man of the world to their doors, but one thing sure—he was good pay.
"We can give you breakfast and dinner here for a dollar and a half a day extra," Jane continued, trying to be every inch a business woman, though this was her first experience as a landlady.
"O.K. That's fine," grinned Carter. "I'll want to eat every meal here I can. I think I shall find it very pleasant." He smiled at Jane in an intimate fashion that made her feel vaguely uneasy.
"We couldn't serve you luncheon," Jane explained, "because I always eat that with my grandfather. He's Mr. Dillon of the Crosstown Railways."
"I've heard of him," said Carter gravely. "He lives here, doesn't he?"
