"Come to the upper hall," he said to Val after the mid-day dinner; "help me to unpack, and see if anything I've picked up in my travels will do for a present to Aunt Jerusha."
Val followed him up-stairs, into the seventh heaven. She knew she ought to call Emmie; but why spoil it?
"You never answered my last letter," she said with lowered voice as they reached the landing.
"Didn't I? I'm so sorry. I thought I had. But it's so long ago."
"Not so very."
"About three years. You've rather neglected me of late." He smiled down into her lifted eyes.
"Perhaps I didn't know your new address."
"'Monroe et Cie, 7, Rue Scribe, Paris,' always finds me."
"I thought you told grandma to write direct to the Rue de Provence."
"Ah yes, at one time. I left there a long while ago."