Harry Hunter suddenly laughed. It was truly bizarre; in all his years, this was the first time someone was afraid he'd suffer a loss and invited him to dinner!
The indifference in his voice dissipated a bit as he casually said, "Let me treat you. You're still a student and don't have much income. It won't be too late to treat me when you're working officially."
Speaking of income, Isabella Weaver suddenly remembered the check she recently received.
A smile appeared on her slightly pale face. "I got a large sum of money yesterday, so I can afford to treat! You must let me treat today, and you're not allowed to fight me over it."
Harry Hunter felt a stir inside and asked her, "Did one of your paintings sell?"
Isabella Weaver's lips curved up. "Yes! The buyer seems very generous and really believes in me!"
"Really? How much did your painting sell for?"
Isabella Weaver held out a slender, tender hand and gestured, "Fifty thousand!"
