“I suppose it is.”
“Not that I don’t care for children,” she murmured. Her grey eyes grew remote; a hint of tenderness curved her lips, and she smiled faintly to herself.
“We’ll try out your idea first,” he said, “—the combination you prefer,—your work first, then me.... Our life will pass in one endless courtship.”
“Could anything be lovelier!” she cried, enchanted.
CHAPTER XXIV
IF Annan supposed he was to see Eris frequently during those first enchanted days, he presently realised his mistake. She was working under pressure at the studio.
Pressure, due to laziness and ignorance, seldom bears hard on the incompetents who cause it. In this case it was due to hasty organization and Mr. Creevy’s direction. And Eris was always about to take a train when Annan called her on the telephone,—always starting “on location,” or “working late at the studio,” or kept idle awaiting “re-takes.”
These phrases began to irritate Annan; but there seemed to be nothing he could do about it.