And the books! As he looked back into the big room, the rows of volumes seemed to smile at him with the faces of old friends.
Lonely, longing for a haven after the storms which had beaten him, what better could he find than this?
As for the family of Mary Ballard, what had he to do with it? His business was with Mary Ballard herself, with her frank laugh and her friendliness—and her arms full of roses!
"I like them so much that I shall consider myself most fortunate to get them."
"Oh, really?" She hesitated and held out her hand to him. "You don't know how you have helped me out—you don't know how you have helped me——"
Again she saw a question in his eyes, but this time she did not answer it. She turned and went into the other room, drawing back the curtains of the deep windows of the round tower.
"I haven't shown you the best of all," she said. Beneath them lay the lovely city, starred with its golden lights. From east to west the shadowy dimness of the Mall, beyond the shadows, a line of river, silver under the moonlight. A clock tower or two showed yellow faces; the great public buildings were clear-cut like cardboard.
Roger drew a deep breath. "If there were nothing else," he said, "I should take the rooms for this."
And now from the lower hall came the clamor of voices.
"Mary! Mary!"