Again Roberts looked and turned away. “A woman’s hands; I fancied so.... And you hoped to fulfil your contract, defied fate—with those hands!” His own worked, and under command went still. “You agreed to let me help you, did you not?” he digressed suddenly.
“Yes.”
“And promised to trust me? I wish that understood clearly in the beginning.”
“Yes,” again.
“Very well, then, that brings us back to the starting-point. I repeat my proposal that Mrs. Randall and you change your residence immediately. Must I analyze further?”
“No, I understand—and appreciate. I accept too if Margery—” he halted with a wry smile. “Do you think she—would if I asked her?”
Roberts’ expression did not alter. “Supposing you write her and find out,” he suggested. 211 “And in the meantime you’ll have three days to settle in your new home,” he added irrelevantly.
Again Randall colored, like a youth planning on building his first nest. The contagion of the thing was upon him, the infinite, rosy possibilities manifest.
“I can do it easily,” he said, “and she’ll be surprised—and pleased—I can fancy the way she’ll look now.” Second thought intruded. “I’m afraid, though, the few things we’ve got here won’t even make an impression there. The place is so big by comparison.”
“That’s all right,” easily. “I said I’d want to take a hand.” He had a seeming inspiration. “Supposing you get Miss Gleason to help you and suggest what more is needed. I’m sure she’d do it for Mrs. Randall and you. I’ll speak to her too.”