She flushed with pleasure and came over and kissed his forehead, at which he smiled a little sadly in his growing wisdom.
"We can get Caroline to go with us," the girl resumed, sitting down on the sofa and smoothing the shawl which she had spread over his bandaged foot. "Poor old Caroline, she never gets any pleasure, and she will love it."
"I think perhaps you had better ring up Jackson" (he gave the number) "and tell him to get the car ready for a long run to-morrow; and if you and Paul don't mind, and will put me up to-night, you might tell Jackson to send Bob up with my clothes and things. It would not hurt this foot to be perfectly quiet till we start, and Bob can make the compresses, and bandage it, as well as any doctor."
After a little pause she answered, "Yes, that would be splendid. You can have mother's room, and Bob can sleep in—in the dressing-room. Shall I go and tell Caroline?"
"No, go and telephone." He repeated the number. "Better get Jackson at once. By the way, Miss Perkins' young man will be coming in this afternoon, won't he?"
She nodded, "Yes, oh dear, I had forgotten. He and Jenny are coming to dinner. Paul has a lot of new Russian music——"
Barclay sat there and listened to her pretty voice at the telephone, the thoughtful look in his face deepening though not saddening, and when she came back he asked her abruptly if she thought Paul and Jenny Wick were falling in love with each other.
She stood in a pool of sunlight on the other side of the mantelpiece, twisting the ruby on her finger. She had grown a little thin during the hot weather, and her slight, graceful figure looked almost too unsubstantial in the little dove coloured frock.