So, sweetly appreciative of all she saw, she walked at his side, down the little paths, helped him to remember the names of the annuals, admired the view of the back-yard through a vista of trellis-work arches.
"Do you like it?" he asked her.
Deleah, with her artless desire to please, declared that she liked it very much.
He turned away with a long-drawn breath of content "Come indoors," he commanded. He walked in front to lead the way, but stopped suddenly on the little path and turned to ask her if she knew how long it was since he and she had talked together.
"Quite a long time, isn't it?" Deleah answered him. "But I have not been living at home, you know; I—"
He cut her short abruptly. "It is five months three weeks and two days," he said. "But the time has not been long to me. Looking back it seems that the time has almost flown."
Deleah could not have felt flattered that this was so, but she told him she was glad to know that he was so happy.
"Not happy," he said, "but looking forward to happiness; working for it." With that he went on again, stopping at the hall-door. "I think I've remembered your taste," he said as he threw the door open. "I've carried it out everywhere as far as it was possible."
At that Deleah drew back. "I will look over your house some other time," she said. "It is late. I must be getting home now."
"Do you call the Forcus's place your home?"