He led her to his study and general den, a fine old room looking into the stable-yard, capacious, but gloomy. “This is dreadful,” she cried, “no view, and ever so far from _me_! You must have the room next the morning-room, so that we can run in to each other, and talk at any moment.” “That is one of the best bedrooms.” “What of that! We can do without superfluous bedrooms; but I cannot do without you. This room of yours will make a visitor’s bedroom. If he or she doesn’t like it, he or she can go away, and leave us to ourselves, which _we_ shall like ever so much better, shan’t we?” she asked, caressingly, as if life were going to be one long honeymoon. Of course he assented, kissed the red frank lips, and assured her that for him bliss meant a perpetual _tête-à-tête_. Yes, his study should be next her boudoir; so that even in his busiest hours he should be able to turn to her for gladness—refreshing himself with her smiles after a troublesome interview with his bailiff—taking counsel with her about every change in his stable, sharing her interest in every new book. “I will give orders about the change at once,” he said, “so that everything may be ready for us when you are tired of Cheriton.” They lunched gaily in the garden. Nita hated eating indoors when the weather was good enough for an _al fresco_ meal. They lunched under a Spanish chestnut that made a tent of foliage on the lawn in front of the house. They lingered over the meal, full of talk, finding a new world of conversation suggested by their surroundings; and then the greys were brought round to the hall door, and they started on the return journey. It began to rain before they reached Cheriton, and the afternoon clouded over with a look of premature winter. No saunterings on the terrace this evening; no midnight meanderings among the cypresses and yews, the gleaming statues and dense green walls; as if they had been Romeo and Juliet, wedded and happy, in the garden at Verona. For the first time since the beginning of their honeymoon they were obliged to stay indoors. “It is positively chilly,” exclaimed Juanita, as her maid carried off her damp mantle. “My dearest love, I’m afraid you’ve caught cold,” said Godfrey, with apprehension. “Do I ever catch cold, Godfrey?” Nita cried, scornfully; and indeed her splendid physique seemed to negative the idea as she stood before him, tall and buoyant, with the carnation of health upon cheek and lips, her eyes sparkling, her head erect. “Well, no, my Juno, I believe you are as free from all such weakness as human nature can be; but I shall order fires all the same, and I implore you to put on a warm gown.” “I will,” she answered, gaily. “You shall see me in my copper plush.” “Thanks, love. That is a vision to live for.” “Shall we have tea in my dressing-room—or in yours?” “In mine. I think we have taken tea in almost every other room in the house, as well as in every corner of the garden.”