“This is my room. I made it myself and furnished it by opening up the stream. The bed was there for it but the water had been choked by a dam of leaves. I cleared it out and now you see I have running water in my room. That’s all I need.”
“It’s the most beautiful interior decoration I ever saw.”
“You shall have a key for that.”
He did not keep her. But he walked towards his sister’s cottage and they came out in her garden. Horatia went into the house to see Marjorie and the children. She felt curiously at home there, and Marjorie was so very glad to see her that Horatia felt even more happy. She thought suddenly that she could tell Marjorie a little about Jim, and that Marjorie was the only person in the world to whom she could tell even a little. But there was little time to think. Everyone wanted to plan things to do and to arrange for many things. Then Anthony insisted that he had walked her unconscionably far and to save her stiffness he must take her home. She got into the car with delightful familiarity. Anthony said never a personal word and if he thought them, Horatia did not guess. She found him very handsome in his country khaki and even more wholesome than ever. She was in a mood to yearn for wholesomeness.
Maud would have Anthony stay for dinner. Horatia found herself urging him too and to her greater surprise found herself thoroughly anticipating dinner. She had not been hungry for some time but tonight——
“I’ve never seen Horatia eat so much,” said Anthony, “except on a memorable evening at the Redtop Hotel.”
Banter and nonsense—healthy nonsense. How restful they were after introspection and worry. How friendly and cheerful everyone was, and how quiet and peaceful it was about them. Maud watched Anthony as she crocheted a sweater for herself—Anthony watched Horatia—Harvey with a secret amusement watched his wife and his sister-in-law, but Horatia watched no one. She was revelling in peace. Jim was in her mind but no longer torturing her. She thought of him as loving her and of herself as loving him. No solutions of her difficulty came to her and she did not look for any. She was content to be in the midst of life. It no longer frightened her.
“Good-night,” said Anthony. “I’ll be over often. Look for me on the doorstep every morning.”
CHAPTER XIX
PERHAPS the modern substitute for the coquetry of the old-fashioned woman before marriage is the introduction of “problems” into her love-making. The man still courts—a little more discreetly than he used to but much after the same plan—but whereas the woman of a generation ago was supposed to lead him a whimsical chase, now giving, now withdrawing her favor, refusing to admit her feelings, the typical woman of today is apt to admit her feelings readily enough, but she preludes her submission to them by the introduction of a host of “problems.”