The point itself was private property, owned by the dozen men who had their homes here; around its islands and properties swept the sea-tides, with Long Island Sound opening out beyond. Lying within the corporate limits of a town once famed as being forty-five minutes from Broadway, Aircastle Point was both remote from the citied roar yet near enough to New York.
When Dorothy viewed this future home of hers, the delight that upsprang in her became a rapture, an ecstasy of eager planning, that fully verified Armstrong's choice of a location. She found an old Dutch farmhouse with wall panels, corner fireplaces and other treasures of a once comfortable and simple home life. On three sides, a lawn swept down to the sea, barred by a low wall of rough stone. Huge elms and oaks overshadowed the house, and across the lawn were flung old cedars and pines, contorted and blown by the salt winds into fantastic shapes.
Armstrong slyly suggested decorators, then refrained from further intrusion. He had certain ideas of his own, but watched unobtrusively to see what would happen. Thus, thinking to please him, Dorothy called in a gentleman from Fifth Avenue, who made two very accurately beautiful paintings of her home-interior as it should be. Reese accompanied his wife to view the results, and blandly expressed himself as charmed. Dorothy eyed him, then turned to the decorator with her sweetest air.
"These pictures are exquisite. I should like to buy them from you."
"You flatter us, Mrs. Armstrong!" came the unctuous response, with the usual simper. "We try to express an individualistic taste, of course—this dining room, for example. You will notice that it is entirely correct; Jacobean throughout. People are doing these things so much this season, of course! This touch of color over the buffet is a splendid bit of tapestry that I have in mind; really quite good, don't you think? An excellent bit of still life—game—"
"I'm sure your ideas are excellent," said Dorothy. "What is the price of these?"
"Oh, say fifty dollars for both pictures; we do not make a practice of selling these things, you know, and if you decide to confide the work to us, as I am confident you will, we shall be very glad to deduct the amount from our fee."
Dorothy paid for the two pictures. Something in her air aroused the decorator to questions, to an unfortunate probing. So Dorothy gave him the truth which he sought.
"You see," she explained sweetly, "I want them because they are really very nice, and also in order to show what we've escaped. My taste in decorating is quite hopeless, you know, for I want a home and not an inane color effect—"
Armstrong exploded in a burst of laughter and hastened to escort Dorothy from the outraged precincts. Safely in the car, she turned dancing eyes to him.