"I'd hate to tell you what I really think of you, and what all your old friends down here think of you, if calling you a lap dog offends you."
"The virago is not a becoming rôle, Bobs," he said, and left her.
He was so angry that he breathed hard. He didn't care what she thought of him, or what any of them thought but he was furious that she had spoiled his mood of exhilaration. He had just gotten a portrait commission from one of Althea's friends, at a luncheon, and he felt that the world was a ball for his tossing.
"What's the matter with Bobs?" he asked Jane that night.
"Is something the matter with her?"
"She's as bitter as an old scold," he complained.
"I think she has been deeply hurt through some late experience," Jane replied. He glanced at her quickly, but her eyes were on her work, so he detected no sign that she knew what that experience was.
In late May Jane's preparations for their hegira were completed. The first day of June they moved to the country. It happened that the spring was late so that the early flowers and the June roses all came along together. They found the gardens a riot, with crimson ramblers running over the hedges and a Dorothy Perkins trellis in full flower.
"It really is enchanting," Jerry exclaimed as they drove up to the door.
They found everything in readiness. Windows were open, beds made, flowers in the vases, logs laid on the hearth. Mrs. Biggs and Billy were installed in charge of the kitchen department.