After all, Irene had not made a scene! She would come round--that was the best of her; she was cold, but not sulky.
And, puffing the cigarette smoke at a lady-bird on the shining table, he plunged into a reverie about the house.

It was no good worrying; he would go and make it up presently.

She would be sitting out there in the dark, under the Japanese sunshade, knitting.

A beautiful, warm night....
In truth, June had come in that afternoon with shining eyes, and the words: "Soames is a brick! It's splendid for Phil--the very thing for him!" Irene's face remaining dark and puzzled, she went on: "Your new house at Robin Hill, of course.

What?
Don't you know ?" Irene did not know.
"Oh! then, I suppose I oughtn't to have told you!" Looking impatiently at her friend, she cried: "You look as if you didn't care.