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“
Rather
;
I
should
say
so
.
”
Glennard
’
s
hand
lingered
on
the
knob
.
“
How
much
—
should
you
say
?
You
know
about
such
things
.
”
“
Oh
,
I
should
have
to
see
the
letters
;
but
I
should
say
—
well
,
if
you
’
ve
got
enough
to
fill
a
book
and
they
’
re
fairly
readable
,
and
the
book
is
brought
out
at
the
right
time
—
say
ten
thousand
down
from
the
publisher
,
and
possibly
one
or
two
more
in
royalties
.
If
you
got
the
publishers
bidding
against
each
other
you
might
do
even
better
;
but
of
course
I
’
m
talking
in
the
dark
.
”
“
Of
course
,
”
said
Glennard
,
with
sudden
dizziness
.
His
hand
had
slipped
from
the
knob
and
he
stood
staring
down
at
the
exotic
spirals
of
the
Persian
rug
beneath
his
feet
“
I
’
d
have
to
see
the
letters
,
”
Flamel
repeated
.
“
Of
course
—
you
’
d
have
to
see
them
.
.
.
.
”
Glennard
stammered
;
and
,
without
turning
,
he
flung
over
his
shoulder
an
inarticulate
“
Good
-
by
.
.
.
.
”
The
little
house
,
as
Glennard
strolled
up
to
it
between
the
trees
,
seemed
no
more
than
a
gay
tent
pitched
against
the
sunshine
.
It
had
the
crispness
of
a
freshly
starched
summer
gown
,
and
the
geraniums
on
the
veranda
bloomed
as
simultaneously
as
the
flowers
in
a
bonnet
.
The
garden
was
prospering
absurdly
.
Seed
they
had
sown
at
random
—
amid
laughing
counter
-
charges
of
incompetence
—
had
shot
up
in
fragrant
defiance
of
their
blunders
.
He
smiled
to
see
the
clematis
unfolding
its
punctual
wings
about
the
porch
.
The
tiny
lawn
was
smooth
as
a
shaven
cheek
,
and
a
crimson
rambler
mounted
to
the
nursery
-
window
of
a
baby
who
never
cried
.
A
breeze
shook
the
awning
above
the
tea
-
table
,
and
his
wife
,
as
he
drew
near
,
could
be
seen
bending
above
a
kettle
that
was
just
about
to
boil
.
So
vividly
did
the
whole
scene
suggest
the
painted
bliss
of
a
stage
setting
,
that
it
would
have
been
hardly
surprising
to
see
her
step
forward
among
the
flowers
and
trill
out
her
virtuous
happiness
from
the
veranda
-
rail
.
The
stale
heat
of
the
long
day
in
town
,
the
dusty
promiscuity
of
the
suburban
train
were
now
but
the
requisite
foil
to
an
evening
of
scented
breezes
and
tranquil
talk
.
They
had
been
married
more
than
a
year
,
and
each
home
-
coming
still
reflected
the
freshness
of
their
first
day
together
.
If
,
indeed
,
their
happiness
had
a
flaw
,
it
was
in
resembling
too
closely
the
bright
impermanence
of
their
surroundings
.
Their
love
as
yet
was
but
the
gay
tent
of
holiday
-
makers
.
His
wife
looked
up
with
a
smile
.
The
country
life
suited
her
,
and
her
beauty
had
gained
depth
from
a
stillness
in
which
certain
faces
might
have
grown
opaque
.
“
Are
you
very
tired
?
”
she
asked
,
pouring
his
tea
.
