It was mere passive existence, an inert, plantlike vegetation, the moment's pause before the final decay, the last inevitable rot.
One day after he had been living nearly a year at the Lick House, Adams & Brunt, the real estate agents, sent him word that they had an offer for his property on California Street.

It was the homestead.

The English gentleman, the president of the fruit syndicate who had rented the house of Vandover, was now willing to buy it.

His business was by this time on a firm and paying basis and he had decided to make his home in San Francisco.

He offered twenty-five thousand dollars for the house, including the furniture.
Brunt had several talks with Vandover and easily induced him to sell.
"You can figure it out for yourself, Mr.Vandover," he said, as he pointed out his own calculations to him; "property has been going down in the city for the last ten years, and it will continue to do so until we can get a competing railroad through.