Marion returned to her baskets, and there was silence again for a time.
"Your idea of the bookcases was a happy one," she said presently, standing back to view her work. "These baskets have the air of a collection of curios behind the glass."
"A charming touch of color against our olive walls. Confess, did you ever have such a good time in your life?"
"My enthusiasm is sprouting vigorously."
"And the fun is only just beginning. But do come here—quick, Marion! I want you to see Giant Despair."
A tall, heavily built old man was passing along Pleasant Street, his brows drawn together in a tremendous frown. He swung a stout walking-stick in his right hand, as if he would have been pleased to lay it over somebody's shoulders. At the corner he paused and looked back at the shop.
"Did you see? He shook his fist!" cried Norah.
"Have we an enemy?" asked Marion.