"You forget," said Robert, who, with Pryor, had followed the ladies in. "You forget that 'leiser Nachhall längst verklungner Lieder, zieht mit Erinnenings-Schauer durch die Brust."
"Which means, I take it," Pryor said:
"'I saw her then, as I see her yet,
With the rose she wore, when first we met.'"
"Pooh! Male parsimony disguised as Teuton sentiment," said Lydia. "Don't be put upon, Janet, by this love-in-a-tenement stuff. Let me give you a tip. Laurence Twickenham, my publisher, has just put his Long Island home on the market. He says that the ruinous royalties he's compelled to pay me do not permit him to keep up an expensive establishment. It's a perfectly gorgeous estate, right next to mine, and not too far from New York. Do make Robert buy it and settle down to a useful life as a country gentleman."
"What! Foster his mania for hearth and home?" cried Janet, laughing. "Catch me! Nowadays men are almost incurably domestic, as it is."
"Well, what are you children going to do?"
"Children!" said Robert, coming forward, and lecturing Lydia with gusto. "None of your wiseacre airs, Lydia. Our program will show you that we know our own minds. Hear ye! We shall be married as soon as Janet can get a day off. After the ceremony Janet will return to her job of running the Susan B. Anthony House; I shall return to my job of trying to make America safe for those who don't happen to be grafters, parasites, or profiteers. During the better part of the year, our offices will be in the Kips Bay tenements here, Numbers Thirteen and Fifteen, respectively—we shall toss up to see who gets which. No attempt on the part of either to impose his or her friends, diet, hygiene, or recreations upon the other without consent, will be tolerated for a moment. Each is to be absolute master in what may jointly be agreed upon to be his own domain, provided only that Janet is to darn all my socks or buy new pairs as fast as the big toe protrudes. At the end of nine months, we shall both be ready for a trip to—"
"To Sweden," Janet put in softly, going to his side and caressing his arm.
"To Sweden!" exclaimed Lydia, while Charlotte and Pryor laughed at her bewilderment. "To the psychopathic ward, if you ask me!"
* * * * * * * *