meant something to me to come down here every day and fuss around these books—something that I cannot explain—something more than merely buying and selling books. Books get to be more than just paper and print to you, you know⸺” he was silent again and neither spoke a while. It was a minute or two before Val broke the silence. When he did he offered his suggestion tentatively, almost hesitatingly.
“Why don’t you buy the place, then?” he asked. The other looked up at him with a half smile and shook his head.
“Hardly,” he replied. “I’ve managed to save a little money—but far from enough to take over this business. You know⸺”
“Yes, I suppose so,” offered Val, interrupting the old man. “But it wouldn’t take so much, and if you don’t mind accepting help from me, why . . .”
The old man’s hand went to his throat and his old eyes shone a bit brighter. His voice quavered a little as he answered.
“Why, Mr. Morley, it’s mighty decent of you. Of course, I couldn’t accept⸺”
“Oh, simply a loan, of course,” interposed Val brusquely, waving any possible objections aside with his hand, which he flicked in the air with a slight gesture as though to a business man of his caliber it was nothing. “Just a loan, you know. Of course, I should expect it repaid with interest,” he stated, quite severely. “It is purely a business transaction—you understand, to be sure.”
The other smiled. “Ah, you say that, Mr. Morley, but I know it is because this old place means something more than just books to you, as it does to me, that you make that offer. We’ll call it a loan, since you
