“Would you rather not?”
“Ten thousand times. It seems to me that the biggest mistake people make is the way they do this thing. Juliet—think of the little house. We made it—you made it. For years, without doubt, it’s to hold us and our experiences. Do you know I’d like to give it this one to begin with?—I’m holding my breath!”
Plainly she was holding hers. Her head was turned away—he could just see her profile outlined against the ruby light. And at the moment there were footsteps inside a long French window near at hand which lay open into the library. Mr. Horatio Marcy came out and stood still just behind them.
Anthony sprang to his feet, and came forward up the steps. The older man greeted him cordially. Anthony pulled a big chair into position, and Mr. Marcy sat down. He was smoking and wore an air of relaxation. He and his guest fell to talking, the younger man entering into the conversation with as much ease and spirit as if he were not fresh from what was to him at this hour a much more interesting discussion. Juliet sat quietly and listened.
It grew into an absorbing argument after a little, the two men taking opposite sides of a great governmental question just then claiming public interest. Mrs. Dingley came out and joined the group, and she and Juliet listened with increasing delight in a contest of brains such as was now offered them. Mr. Marcy himself, while he put forth his arguments with conviction and with skill, was evidently enjoying the keen wit and wisdom of his young opponent. The elder man met objection with objection, set up men of straw to be knocked down, and ended at last with a hearty laugh and a frankly appreciative:
“Well, Anthony—you have convinced me of one thing, certainly. There are more sides to the question than I had understood. I will admit that you’ve made a strong argument. But when I come back I’ll down you with fresh material. I shall have plenty of it.”
“Are you going away soon, sir?” Anthony asked with some surprise. Mr. Marcy was a frequent traveller, preferring to look after various business interests in faraway ports himself rather than entrust them to others.
“Yes—I shall be off in a few weeks—and for a longer time than usual. I haven’t told these ladies of my household yet—but this is as good a time as any. Juliet, little girl—I may be gone all winter this time.”
She came quickly to him without speaking, and gave him her regretful answer silently.
“When do you go, Horatio?” Mrs. Dingley asked.