[CHAPTER XX]
One day, when the summer of the next year had slipped into September, Theresa was five minutes late for work. She shut the door with a bang that had a sound of triumph in it, and her face had the flush of victory.
Neville pointed to the clock.
"Don't be fussy, Jack. This is the first time—and I've been up all night!"
"It seems to have agreed with you. You've been looking like a wilted daffodil for months, and now you're like, well—what would you like to be like? A rose will do. Has your arch enemy died?"
"No." She drew her chair noisily to the table. "No."
"Need you be quite so emphatic in your movements?"
"I must be. It's my form of self-expression, and I wish to express joy. I've got a niece, Jack, a real live niece. Isn't it glorious?"
"Is it? Felicitations! If we tell the old gentleman, he'll have in a bottle of champagne."