He leaned back restfully.
She laughed and watched him in silence.
"I'll miss it all like the dickens!"
She looked up quickly from the flowers she was just beginning to arrange.
"You are not going away, are you?" she asked.
He nodded and sighed.
"Home—to Scotland. The lease on the place has run out, and they think country air will brace me up a bit—so we're going. It'll seem queer to get back there after all these years."
"You—you're going to give up the Grosvenor Square house?"
"Yes. I suppose, though, we'll come back every year for the season and take a suite at the Langham or the Buckingham Gate. Father has an idea that he'll put me through a course of politics up there, when we're alone, and there's nothing going on." Stewart smiled mirthlessly.
"You are thinking of going into politics, when you get strong?" asked Cary for something to say. A sudden unutterable homesickness had swept over her.