‘Never fear, my love. That for you!" And she snapped her fingers in his face. The preparations to meet him were immense, roses were planted everywhere, white and drooping with honeyed fragrance. He was absolutely unable to focus his ideas. Dim souls flitted about her, not only speaking but it would seem even thinking in undertones. Both husband and wife affected an unnatural ease of manner for the benefit of the efficient parlor-maid, who was putting the finishing touches to the sideboard arrangements. It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted. The touch of her hands was pleasurable. Shall we sit outside and drink a petit verre of something to give us an appetite while dinner is being prepared?” “Certainly not,” she answered. It was interesting to see how different and characteristic his mode of approach was to all sorts of questions that interested her, and it was amusing to discover this other side to the life of a Morningside Park inhabitant.
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