Amory was silent, noting the educational bookseller’s periods. He continued.
“It is perhaps a little too early to speak of it, but it might set your mind at rest. When Geraldine and I are married, in July if all be well, I do not want you to feel that any difference to yourself will be made. Your home, if you wish it, will still be with us.”
Amory broke out a little quickly, as if not to leave it for a moment in doubt that she was properly grateful, “Oh, thank you so very much, Mr. Massey——”
“George—or Uncle George——” said Mr. Massey gently.
“—Uncle George—and I do hope you won’t think me horrid—but I thought of living in my studio——”
Mr. Massey made a little calming gesture with his hands, as if to say that all should be exactly as she pleased. He nodded several times.
“I understand; your art; you know best; don’t think I wish to put the least constraint on you. I only want to assure you that your aunt’s house is always at your disposal,” he said kindly.
“Thank you so much,” said Amory hurriedly; and there was a sudden pause.
“It will probably,” Mr. Massey went on deliberatively, as if he passed a succession of desirable dwellings in mental review, “be on the Mall. Yes, Chiswick Mall. One sees such sweet sketches there, especially of sunsets. But in case you do elect to occupy your studio, there will be a little business we shall have to arrange. It may even include a little money. But we can talk of that later.—Shall we join the others, my dear?”