Anne opened the volume, once more hurt and puzzled. Richard Latham was always so equable, so friendly toward her that she could not understand this new mood. The tone of his last words relegated her to the unbridgable distance of his hired secretary.
Anne began to read at the third book, the “Paradise.” Her voice was troubled at first, but Richard smoked rapidly, apparently unconscious of it, he whose ear was ordinarily quick to hear a note of fatigue in her voice.
Anne loved beauty, and in a few moments she had forgotten herself in Dante’s vision; a little longer and she forgot her listener, which was far more. She read on and on until at last Richard put out his hand to check her.
“You are thirsty,” he said in the old gentle way to which Anne was accustomed. “And it is one o’clock. The sun is around on the other side; that means past noon. We shall not lunch till two to-day; I told Stetson to have a carriage here at three. We are going to have a real holiday, you and I. Stetson is of the party in case I feel like walking in unfamiliar places and need his arm. So put up your book and rest till luncheon.”
“How delightful, Mr. Latham!” cried Anne. “I rarely drive.”
“You are a little girl still, my helpful secretary! How old did you tell me you were?” Richard asked, well-pleased by her pleasure.
Anne arose and dropped a curtsy. Richard felt the motion of her swaying body and laughed at her.
“I am twenty-two, please, sir!” she said in a thin treble. “But I hope to be more.”
“Since you can’t be less?” Richard suggested. “Perhaps you can’t be more, either, in another sense? At least you are a good child, and I’m grateful to you. What nice times we have in this rather nice room which I made once upon a time and still enjoy almost as if I saw it! I’m glad that we have long days to ourselves and don’t suffer many interruptions. Yes, Stetson, want me?” he added as his man put his head into the doorway, knocking on the casement as he did so.
“Little Miss Berkley is here, sir, little Anne Berkley. And young Mr. Carrington—though for that matter the only Mr. Carrington—to see you, Mr. Latham,” he said.