“I'll do nothing of the sort, my dear. This is not Rodney's investment.”
“Nor mine, I suppose!”
“All I want you to do, Natalie, is to consult me. I want you to have a free hand, but some one with a sense of responsibility ought to check up these expenditures. But it isn't only that. I'd like to have a hand in the thing myself. I've rather looked forward to the time when we could have the sort of country place we wanted.”
“You don't like any of the strings to get out of your fingers, do you?”
“I didn't come up to quarrel, Natalie. I wish you wouldn't force it on me.”
“I force it on you,” she cried, and laughed in a forced and high-pitched note. “Just because I won't be over-ridden without a protest! I'm through, that's all. I shan't go near the place again.”
“You don't understand,” he persisted patiently. “I happen to like gardens. I had an idea—I told you about it—of trying to duplicate the old garden at home. You remember it. When we went there on our honeymoon—”
“You don't call that a garden?”
“Of course I didn't want to copy it exactly. It was old and out of condition. But there were a lot of old-fashioned flowers—-However, if you intend to build an Italian villa, naturally—”
“I don't intend to build anything, or to plant anything.” Her voice was frozen. “You go ahead. Do it in your own way. And then you can live there, if you like. I won't.”