John Dorning greeted his father cheerily and introduced Rodrigo. The latter had evidently been well heralded in advance. Henry Dorning welcomed him warmly. A three-cornered conversation upon an art subject engaged them almost immediately, Alice maintaining an interested silence and soon slipping into the house to supervise the preparation of dinner. Just before the meal, Warren Pritchard, Alice's husband, was driven up in the same car that had brought John and Rodrigo from the station. He was a breezy, square-jawed American type, a graduate of Yale who was already well established as one of the minor powers in the financial district. He swept up upon the porch like a gust of wind, kissed his wife, shook hands lustily with John, and had a cheery word with his father-in-law. Upon being introduced to Rodrigo, he shot a keen glance at the Italian and raised his dark bushy eyebrows slightly at the mention of the title. But was evidently ready to accept Rodrigo upon the Dorning's say-so, and was cordial enough.
Pritchard's aggressive materialism seemed at first incongruous in the midst of the Dornings. But Rodrigo quickly corrected his first surmise that the fellow had married Alice Dorning for her money. Pritchard had too evident a deep and abiding love for his wife, and respect for her family for that. Rodrigo liked him.
After dinner the men smoked and later adjourned to the softly lighted billiard room on the top floor of the house. Warren Pritchard assisted his fragile father-in-law up the stairs, and the latter was an interested spectator of the spirited game in which Alice and Rodrigo were partners against John and Pritchard. The family retired early. Rodrigo was assigned to a spacious bedroom in the front of the house. He closed his eyes in an almost rural stillness that was disturbed only by the April wind rustling gently through the leafing elm tree outside his window and the waters of the Sound plopping against the dock.
Following breakfast the next morning, Warren Pritchard who looked fresh and husky in a tweedy knickerbocker suit, asked briskly, "Well, who's for golf? How about you, Count Torriani?"
Rodrigo looked questioningly at John. He was himself very fond of the game and, having enjoyed a very restful sleep, was eager for the exercise.
"Rodrigo will go with you, Warren," suggested John. "He can use my clubs. I promised Ted Fernald I'd run over this morning to that house he's building in the Millbank section and look over his interior decoration plans with him."
Rodrigo offered at once, "I'll go along with you, John, if you like. Perhaps I can help."
Henry Dorning, who had been listening, put in to John, "Why don't you forget business for this morning, John, and play golf? You look a bit drawn. Fernald can wait."
"I'm sorry, Dad. I'd really like to play. But I promised Fernald over a week ago, and he'll be waiting for me. But you go ahead with Warren, Rodrigo. I can take care of Fernald all right, and there's no use spoiling your fun."
Rodrigo consented to be persuaded. Changing into his golf suit, which he had slipped into his bag at the last moment on the chance of getting an opportunity to play, and equipped with John's clubs, which looked very new and shiny, he slid into the seat of the roadster beside Pritchard.