Then, by one impulse, they began to walk back and forth through the room, hand in hand, like children.
"You go next week," he said, although he knew she did.
"Yes."
"When do you come back?"
"As soon as I can race through all the business there. In a month, I hope—perhaps less."
"Shall you come straight here?"
"I may stay a day or two in New York. I shall bring letters. I shall try to get a footing there."
"I will meet you in New York. Grannie has folks there. I'll take you to them."
It was a different man that spoke, decisive, dominating. She flushed in keen delight. They stopped at the window and looked out on the garden beds, in that tranquil summer hush, all growth and bloom. He drew her hand to his lips and spoke intemperately.
"What a fool I was to come by day!"