Vern exclaimed looking as proud as could be, as he strode through the library door and moved toward his sister. He took her hands and shook them gleefully, “Star, we may yet come about.” “Well, look at you…Vern, take your damp cloak off, you will get sick all over again!” Star pulled at his wet cloak and took it to drape over a wooden chair and set up by the fire. “Star, aren’t you listening? I’ve done it! Just like that! Don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner, for I never liked sailing.” “Have you done it, dear?” she said absently. “What is wrong with you?” he ignored his own question and hurried on. “I put together a deal and he couldn’t say no, I tell you. I didn’t wait for Miles on this, but managed it myself. This will see us through and get you a London Season to boot. Star…I’ve sold the yacht!” “Oh Vern, that’s wonderful, to Mr. Duncan? You told me last month he had approached you. I didn’t think you took his offer seriously. Did you get your price?”
