"Why did you write to him?"
"To make inquiries about other cottages, of course."
They passed through a wicket-gate into a small garden gay in summer with larkspurs, hollyhocks, and what children call "red-hot pokers." A path of flagged stones wandered round the house.
"Cosy, ain't it?" he said. And as he spoke she noticed that his voice trembled. She tried to interpret the expression upon his shrewd whimsical face, and failed.
"Are you so tremendously sorry that this lovely place is sold?"
"I'm tremendously glad," he replied.
"I can't screw myself up to say that, Joe. I wonder who is coming to live here?"
"A childless couple."
"A childless couple!" Her face softened. "I'm sorry they're childless. I can see children running about this garden."
"And tumbling into the river!"