“But you don’t fit in with my plans—not at all,” she said, in a way that must have been encouraging since it was not in the least discouraging. “I’m a working-woman, and must not bother with—with orchid hunters.”
“Your plans? Oh!” He laughed, “Let me help you revise them.” He saw her face change. “Or rather,” he quickly corrected, “let me help you realise them.”
They were to join Theresa and Frank at the New York roof-garden. Just before they entered the street doors, he said: “I think there are only two things in the world worth living for—work and love. And I think neither is perfect without the other. Perhaps—who knows?—”
Her answering look was not directed toward him, but it was none the less an answer. It made him feel that they were both happy in the anticipation of greater happiness imminent.
CHAPTER X.
FURTHER EXPLORATION.
WHEN Emily came into the sitting-room the next morning at ten she found that Theresa had ordered breakfast for both sent there, and was waiting. She was in a dressing-gown, her hair twisted in a careless knot, her eyes tired and clouded. The air was tainted with the sweet, stale, heavy perfume which was an inseparable part of her personality. “I wish Theresa wouldn’t use that scent,” thought Emily—her first thought always when she came near Theresa or into any place where Theresa had recently been.
“How well you have slept,” began Theresa, looking with good-natured envy at Emily’s fresh face and fresh French shirt-waist.
“Not very,” replied Emily. “I was awake until nearly daylight.”
“Did you hear me come in?”
“I heard you moving about your room just as I was going to sleep.” Emily knew Theresa’s mode of life. But she avoided seeming to know, and ignored Theresa’s frequent attempts to open the subject of herself and Frank. She thought she had gone far enough when she made it clear that she was not sitting in judgment upon her.