He flew up the steps on the wings of his delight. He would ride like the wind to Virginia—find Edith, in a rose-garden, fling himself at her feet! Declare his good fortune! And he would see her eyes!
Packing his bag, he decided to stop in Washington, and perpetrate a few extravagances. Something for Edith. Something for Jane. Something for himself. There would be no harm in looking his best....
He arrived at Grass Hills in time for lunch. His little Ford came up the drive as proudly as a Rolls-Royce. And Baldy descending was a gay and gallant figure. There was no one in sight but the servants who took his bag, and drove his car around to the garage. A maid in rose linen said that Mr. and Mrs. Simms were at the stables. Miss Towne was on the links with the other guests, and would return from the Country Club in time for lunch at two o’clock. Miss Barnes was up-stairs. Her head had ached, and she had had her breakfast in bed.
“Will you let her know that I am here?”
The maid went up and came down again to say that Miss Barnes was in the second gallery—and would he go right up.
The second gallery looked out over the river. Jane lay in a long chair. She was pale, and there were shadows under her eyes.
“Oh, look here, Janey,” Baldy blurted out, “is it as bad as this?”
“I’m just—lazy.” She sat up and kissed him. Then buried her face in his coat and wept silently.
“For heaven’s sake, Jane,” he patted her shoulder, “what’s the matter?”
“I want to go home.”