"Well, then,—" but Lane did not finish his sentence, kissing his wife instead. "She's rather extravagant, isn't she?" he asked after a time.
"Oh, she'll learn to manage."
"I will do what I can for him, of course."
And Isabelle considered the Falkners' fate settled; John, like her father, always brought about what he wanted.
* * * * *
They spent the Christmas holidays that year with her parents. Lane was called to New York on railroad business, and Isabelle had a breathless ten days with old friends, dining and lunching, listening to threads of gossip that had been broken by her exile to Torso. She discovered an unexpected avidity for diversion, and felt almost ashamed to enjoy people so keenly, to miss her husband so little. She put it all down to the cramping effect of Torso. So when the Colonel asked her how she liked her new home, she burst forth, feeling that her opportunity had come:—
"It doesn't agree with me, I think. I've grown frightfully thin,—John says I mustn't spend another summer there…. I hope we can get away soon. John must have a wider field, don't you think?"
"He seems to find Torso pretty wide."
"He's done splendid work, I know. But I don't want him side-tracked all his life in a little Indiana town. Don't you think you could speak to the Senator or Mr. Beals?"
The Colonel smiled.