"Of what are you thinking, Anthony?"
Adriance looked away. Even to her, he could not bring himself to speak of his lost confidence in his father or to say whom he now feared as an enemy. Mr. Adriance could not divide Anthony and his wife without their consent, but he could make it bitterly hard for them to live together. Anthony had known of men who had incurred his father's enmity, and the memory was not reassuring. Before his interview with Masterson, he would have ridiculed the idea of such a situation between his father and himself; now, he was uncertain.
"Put on your hat and coat," he evaded the question. "Come for a walk; I want to show you something."
"And our dinner?" she demurred.
"Never mind it. We will eat scrambled eggs."
Laughing, she complied.
"What am I going to see, Anthony?"
"A house," briefly.
The walk took them quite away from the neighborhood of such small cottages as their own. In fact, the house before which Anthony finally halted was standing so much away from any others as scarcely to be called in a neighborhood, at all. It stood out on a little spur of the Palisades, delightfully nestled in a bit of woodland and lawns of its own.
"There!" he indicated it. "Pretty?"