"How perfectly lovely!" she said.
"Yes; in some respects more lovely than Palermo. And there are no earthquakes and no rumblings from old Etna."
She was looking at the photographs of a white villa that seemed to be built on the side of a hill. One picture showed a riotous garden, another a lawn with great shady trees and deep basket chairs.
"That is my house at Beaulieu," said Ronnie, "I want you to help me with that."
She looked at him, ready to reprove.
"Your mother is the very woman to run that house and the garden was made for Christina."
Her mouth opened.
"Not you!" she gasped, "you aren't the man who wants a housekeeper. Oh, Ronnie!"
"I haven't photographs of the Palermo villa. I have sent for some. An ideal place for a honeymoon, Evie."
He came round to the back of her chair and dropped his hand on her shoulder lightly.