“All five of them?”
“Of course—I couldn’t possibly separate them. And Junie and Nat will help us to look after the young ones.”
“Help us!” he groaned.
“Oh, you’ll see; they won’t bother you. Just leave it to me; I’ll manage—” The word stopped her short, and an agony of crimson suffused her from brow to throat. Their eyes met; and without a word he stooped and laid his lips gently on the stain of red on her neck.
“Nick,” she breathed, her hands in his.
“But those children—”
Instead of answering, she questioned: “Where are we going?”
His face lit up.
“Anywhere, dearest, that you choose.”
“Well—I choose Fontainebleau!” she exulted.