"Bother his old farm. Well—you might ask that father of yours to come and amuse me."
"I'll go and get him now. Are you sure you don't want me?"
"Quite sure, you funny thing."
Anne ran, to make up for lost time.
v
The sun had come round on to the terrace. Adeline rose from her chair.
John Severn rose, stiffly.
She had made him go with her to the goldfish pond, made him walk round the garden, listening to him and not listening, detaching herself wilfully at every turn, to gather more and more of her blue flowers; made him come into the drawing-room and look on while she arranged them exquisitely in the tall Chinese jars. She had brought him out again to sit on the terrace in the sun; and now, in her restlessness, she was up again and calling to him to follow.
"It's baking here. Shall we go into the library?"
"If you like." He sighed as he said it.
As long as they stayed out of doors he felt safe and peaceful; but he was afraid of the library. Once there, shut in with her in that room which she was consecrating to their communion, heaven only knew what sort of fool he might make of himself. Last time it was only the sudden entrance of Robert that had prevented some such manifestation. And to-day, her smile and her attentive attitude told him that she expected him to be a fool, that she looked to his folly for her entertainment.