"Peter, go back, we're talking books," said Susan, unruffled.
"Well, I read a book once, Susan," he assured her proudly. "Say, let's go over to the hotel and have a dance, what?"
"Madman!" the writer said, in indulgent amusement, as Peter went back. "We'll be in directly, Coleman!" he called. Then he said quickly, and in a low tone to Susan. "Shall you stay here until Sunday, or would you rather be with your own people?"
"It just depends upon what Ella and Emily do," Susan answered. "Kenneth may not tell them. If he does, it might be better to go. This is Tuesday. Of course I don't know, Stephen, they may be very generous about it, they may make it as pleasant as they can. But certainly Emily isn't sorry to find some reason for terminating my stay here. We've--perhaps it's my fault, but we've been rather grating on each other lately. So I think it's pretty safe to say that I will go home on Wednesday or Thursday."
"Good," he said. "I can see you there!"
"Oh, will you?" said Susan, pleased.
"Oh, will I! And another thing, dear, you'll need some things. A big coat for the steamer, and some light gowns--but we can get those. We'll do some shopping in Paris---"
He had touched a wrong chord, and Susan winced.
"I have some money," she assured him, hastily, "and I'd rather--rather get those things myself!"
"You shall do as you like," he said gravely. Silently and thoughtfully they went back to the house.