“I have two wonderful houses to do,” she said, poising a morsel of food gracefully. “One is for a couple recently made rich; they do not dare to move for fear of going wrong. I have that place from garret to cellar. It’s an awful responsibility—but lots of fun!”
“It must be. Spending other people’s money and making them as good as new at the same time, must be rare sport. And the other contract?”
“Oh! that is another matter.” Lynda leaned back and laughed. “I’m toning up an old house. Putting false fronts on, a bit of rouge, filling in wrinkles; in short, giving a side-tracked old lady something to interest her. She doesn’t know it, but I’m letting her do the work, and she’s very happy. She has a kind of rusty good taste. I’m polishing it without hurting her. The living room! Why, Uncle William, it is a picture. It is a tender dream come true.”
“And you are charging for that, you pirate?”
“I do not have to. The dear soul is so grateful that I’m forced to refuse favours.”
“Lynda, ring for Thomas.” Truedale drew his brows close. “I think I’ll—I’ll smoke. It may help me to sleep after the long stories and—when I am alone.” He rarely indulged in this way—tobacco excited instead of soothed him—but the evening must have all the clear thought possible!
CHAPTER IV
Lynda sat again upon her ottoman—her capacity for sitting hours without a support to her back had always been one of her charms for William Truedale. The old man looked at her now; how strong and fine she was! How reliant and yet—how appealing! How she would always give and give—be used to the breaking point—and rarely understood. Truedale understood her through her mother!
“I want to ask you, Lynda, why do you come here—you of all the world? I have often wondered.”