After Mr. Dolph had bowed his guest to the door, Mrs. Dolph slipped down the stairs and into the drawing-room.
"Did he take it?" she asked.
"Of course he took it," Dolph answered, bitterly, "at that price."
"Did he say anything," she inquired again, "about its being hard for us to—to sell it?"
"He said we had better not sell it now—that it would bring more a few years hence."
"He doesn't understand," said Mrs. Dolph.
"He couldn't understand," said Mr. Dolph.
Then she went over to him and kissed him.
"It's only selling the garden, after all," she said; "it isn't like selling our home."
He put his arm about her waist, and they walked into the breakfast-room, and looked out on the garden which to-morrow would be theirs no longer, and in a few months would not be a garden at all.