“No matter about chess,” said Mr. Wadsworth.
“Yes, it is; I will not be selfish.”
“Then run up and talk over your bookish talk, mother and I will come up presently.”
The sitting-room was cozy and home-like, even after the luxury of Mrs. Towne’s handsome apartment. “I don’t want to go away,” sighed Tessa, dropping into a chair near the round black-and-green covered table. “Why can’t people stay at home always?”
“Why indeed?” Mr. Hammerton moved a chair to her side and seating himself carelessly threw an arm over the back of her chair.
How many evenings they had read and studied in this fashion, with Dine on a low stool, her curly head in her sister’s lap.
“They will never come again.”
“What?” asked Tessa opening the long, yellow envelope he had taken from his pocket.
“The old days when you and Dine and I will not want any one else.”
“True; Dine has left us already.”