"Please don't move," she exclaimed, as though her coming were the most natural thing in the world. "I am going to sit down with you, if I may!"
He murmured an expression of conventional delight. She wore a dress of some soft white material, and her figure was as wonderful as ever. He recovered himself almost at once and studied her admiringly.
"Paris?" he murmured.
"Paquin!" she answered. "I remembered that you liked me in white."
"But where on earth have you come from?" he asked.
"The Farm," she answered. "I'm going to take it for three months—if you're decent to me!"
"That rascal Richard!" he muttered. "Never told me a word! Pretended to be surprised when he heard you and Clara were back."
She nodded.
"Clara is going to marry that Frenchman next month," she said, "and I shall be looking for another companion. Do you know of one?"
"I haven't another niece," he answered.