She was evidently quite satisfied. "Let me see," she reflected. "How soon can we begin? I must go and say how-do-you-do to Mrs. Wells, and she will tell me what I am to order for dinner; and then I must send a line to Joey, and ask her to come over to tea to-morrow."
"You have a car of your own now," he broke in. "Don't be beholden to her any more than you wish."
"She was very kind," said Virgie, "and I know she would like to come if you don't mind. I'm sorry for her too."
"Why are you sorry for her?"
She looked up at him, with a half smile, and an appeal for response. "Her husband is such a—such a dreadful person, isn't he?"
Gaunt, for the first time in their mutual acquaintance, gave the sympathy, the understanding for which she begged. He smiled, in the same way that she smiled, as if they were thoroughly in accord upon the point of Mr. Ferris. "Poor old Joey!" he replied. "Your society must be a godsend to her. They were kind to me while you were away. I went there several times. Joey let me read your letters to her."
This last was very tentatively said, with an apprehensive glance.
Virgie laughed, however. "Such silly letters," she remarked. Then, laying aside her table-napkin and rising: "Then in an hour's time, shall we go out in the garden?"
He eagerly assented. "I'll go down to the lodge and get Emerson to come along," he told her. "Then we can plan something."
They spent the entire morning in the garden, and at lunch time there was certainly no lack of conversation. In the absorbing topic of rock-gardening, the idea of redecorating the house fell temporarily into the background.