Fortunately he was a man not without invention, and so when a few minutes later she suggested opening the tea basket, he insisted on moving to a more retired spot on the plea that the teakettle would burn better out of the wind; and Crystal, who must have known that Tomes never gave her a teakettle, but made the tea at home and put it in a thermos bottle, at once agreed to the suggestion.
They moved back across the road, where irregular rocks sheltered small plots of grass and wild flowers, and here, instead of an Arcadian duet, they had, most unsuitably, their first quarrel.
It began as quarrels are so apt to do, by a complete agreement. Of course he would stay over the next day, which was Sunday, and not very busy in the office of Liberty. In return he expected her undivided attention. She at once admitted that this was part of the plan—only there would have to be one little exception; she was dining out this evening. Oh, well, that could be broken, couldn’t it? She would like to break it, but it happened to be one of those engagements that had to be kept. Ben could not understand that.
At first she tried to explain it to him: She had chosen her own evening several weeks ago with these people, who wanted her to meet a friend of theirs who was motoring down specially from Boston. She felt she must keep her word.
“I assure you I don’t want to, but you understand, don’t you?”
If she had looked at his face she would not have asked the last question. He did not understand; indeed, he had resolved not to.
“No,” he said, “I must own, I don’t. If you told me that you wanted to go, that would be one thing. I shouldn’t have a word to say then.”
“Oh yes, you would, Ben,” said Crystal, but he did not notice her.
“I can’t understand your allowing yourself to be dragged there against your will. You say you despise this life, but you seem to take it pretty seriously if you can’t break any engagement that you may make.”
“How absurd you are! Of course I often break engagements.”