She became silent for a while. "I hate money," she said. "I hate it, hate it!"
"It's mighty comfortable to have it around sometimes," he countered.
"As in my case, for instance. If I were poor and had to work no one would bother me."
"I would!" he declared, laughing. "Come; let's throw off moods and go into town for tea at the Rose Garden; and if you feel strong enough we'll trip the light fantastic."
They had been gone from the house less than an hour when a man ran up the steps of the veranda and rang the bell. Jones being busy at the rear of the house, the maid came to the door.
"Is Miss Hargreave in?" the stranger asked.
"No," abruptly. The door began to close ever so slowly
"Do you know where I can find her?"
The maid eyed him with covert keenness; then, remembering that the reporter was with Florence, said: "I believe she is at the Rose Garden this afternoon."
"That is in town?"