"You have never been a grown-up married woman before."
"I see! You mean that we've become the same age now?" She looked at him more closely. "And we have! Why, Stefan, you're nothing like as old as I used to think you!"
"I never have been," he smiled. "I rather fancied you might discover that fact some day. But—you wouldn't wait, my dear." He turned to some packages on the top of the piano. "Have you become too grown-up and married to like presents?"
The brief moment of awkwardness passed before Joan was quite sure it had been there. She clapped her hands. "Presents—for me? Oh, and for Ellen Neal, and even for Archie, whom you don't know! Stefan, how dear of you!"
"Your people are my people," he said. "Also, I wish to propitiate them into allowing me the freedom of your company, you see."
"Then you're going to stay for some time?" she cried, delightedly.
"As long as I am allowed to—'Home is the sailor, home from sea, and the hunter home from the hill'—"
"Till he begins to feel an itching in his wanderfoot again," said Joan, making a little face at him. "I know you!"
At that moment Ellen came in to light the lamps. "Oh, you've come, Miss Joan, have you? I thought it was about time! Mr. Archie'll be home before long," she said primly, and was about to withdraw when Joan cried to her, "Nellen, have you seen Mr. Nikolai?"
"Sure I have. How else did you s'pose he got into the house? I'm puttin' a place on the supper-table for him," she replied, tossing her head.