Carey looked at Juliet with longing in his eye. He wanted to ask her to supervise the alterations in his purchase, if he should make it. But he remembered other occasions when he had held the sayings and doings of Mrs. Robeson before the eyes of Mrs. Carey with disastrous result, and he dared not make the suggestion. He hoped, however, that Judith might be inclined to ask the assistance of her friend, and himself hinted at it, cautiously. But Judith, beyond inquiring what Juliet thought of certain possible changes, seemed inclined to shoulder her own responsibilities.
Anthony left his wife upon the home-bound train, to return to his work; the Careys accompanied him, so that he had no chance to talk things over until he came home to dinner at night. But when he saw Juliet again almost her first words showed him where her thoughts were.
“Tony, I can’t get those people off my mind. Do you suppose they will ever make a home out of anything?”
“They haven’t much genius for utilizing raw material, I’m very much afraid,” Anthony responded thoughtfully. “Carey has the will, and he can furnish a moderate amount of funds, but whether Judith can furnish anything but objections and contrariety I don’t dare to predict. If her heart were in it I should have more hope of her. There’s one thing I can tell her. If she doesn’t set her soul to the giving the old boy a taste of peace and rest she’ll have him worn out before his time. A fellow who doesn’t know how it feels to sleep soundly, and whose head bothers him half the time, needs looking after. He’s a slave to his office desk, and needs far more than an active chap like me to get out of the city as much as he can.”
“Yes, he’s worried and restless, Tony. He’s so devoted to Judith and so anxious to make her happy, her dissatisfaction rests on him like a weight. Don’t you see that every time you see them together?”
“Every time—and more plainly. What’s the matter with her anyhow, Julie? She seemed promising enough as a girl. You certainly found enough in her to make you two congenial. She’s no more like you than—electric light is like sunshine,” said Anthony, picking up the simile with a laugh and a glance of appreciation.
“Judith shines in the surroundings she was born and brought up in, misses them, and doesn’t know how to adapt herself to any others. She ought to have been the wife of some high official—she could entertain royally and have everybody at her feet.”
“Magnificent characteristics, but mighty unavailable in the present circumstances. It carries out my electric-light comparison. I prefer the sunlight—and I have it.—Poor Carey!”
“We’ll hope,” said Juliet. “And if we have the smallest chance to help, we’ll do it.”
But, as Anthony had anticipated, there was small chance to help. Meeting Carey a fortnight later, Anthony inquired after the new home, and Carey replied with apparent lack of enthusiasm that the house had been leased for a term of three years, with refusal of the purchase at the expiration of the time. He explained that Judith had been unwilling to burn her bridges by buying the place outright, and that he thought perhaps the present plan was the better one—under these conditions. But the fact that the house was not their own made it seem unwise to expend very much upon alterations beyond those of paint and paper. With the prospect of a sale the owner had unwillingly consented to replace the gingerbread porch with one in better style, but refused to do more. The big window, with its abominable topping of cheap coloured glass, was to remain for the present.