"She's a very attractive woman, my dear. Also her motors and her opera box are very comfortable. Also she makes a fuss over me every minute. I don't get that at home, you know. Even you get your claws ready when I appear!" "Jerry, you're an awful cad!" "Thanks." "What do you give her to pay for these comforts?" "Oh, I keep her vanity fed, that's my part." "What kind of lap dog are you, Jerry, a spitz?" "You can't talk to me like that!" he said angrily. "I'd hate to tell you what I really think of you, and what all your old friends down here think of you, if calling you a lap dog offends you." "The virago is not a becoming rôle, Bobs," he said, and left her. He was so angry that he breathed hard. He didn't care what she thought of him, or what any of them thought but he was furious that she had spoiled his mood of exhilaration. He had just gotten a portrait commission from one of Althea's friends, at a luncheon, and he felt that the world was a ball for his tossing. "What's the matter with Bobs?" he asked Jane that night. "_Is_ something the matter with her?" "She's as bitter as an old scold," he complained. "I think she has been deeply hurt through some late experience," Jane replied. He glanced at her quickly, but her eyes were on her work, so he detected no sign that she knew what that experience was. In late May Jane's preparations for their hegira were completed. The first day of June they moved to the country. It happened that the spring was late so that the early flowers and the June roses all came along together. They found the gardens a riot, with crimson ramblers running over the hedges and a Dorothy Perkins trellis in full flower. "It really is enchanting," Jerry exclaimed as they drove up to the door. They found everything in readiness. Windows were open, beds made, flowers in the vases, logs laid on the hearth. Mrs. Biggs and Billy were installed in charge of the kitchen department. "Oh, Miss Judd, ain't it grand in the country?" cried Billy. She nodded and patted his shoulder. When his mother called him away she said: "I hope you won't mind Billy." "Mind him--why should I? You get such strange ideas of me." Days of perfect weather followed, when the garden and the sea called every moment. "It is only by sheer force of will that I am getting our belongings unpacked," said Jane, as they lingered after lunch on the veranda. "Hang our belongings! Get your hat and come for a ramble. This day is a gift, it will never come again." She picked up her hat and staff. "Lead off," she smiled. "Ten minutes for my cigarette," he begged. She stretched out on a _chaise-longue_ in sheer physical delight. "I feel like a turtle, a slow, lethargic turtle," sighed Jerry. "Why do mortals waste time in work, when Nature offers this nirvana?" "It wouldn't seem nirvana without work." "Jane, you have a practical turn of mind. You do not relax into the proper state of nature, naked and unashamed."