The road went sweeping in and out among a thicket of bare tree trunks and brown copses, and the sunlight fell out of the blue sky above straight down upon their heads. “If it don’t annoy you, my referring to England so often,” said she presently, “I will state that this reminds me of Kaysmere, the country place of my father-in-law.” “Is your father-in-law living yet?” “Dear me, yes—and still has hold of the title that I supposed I was getting when I was married to his eldest son. My father-in-law is a particularly healthy old gentleman of eighty. He was forty years old when he married. He didn’t expect to marry, you know—he couldn’t see his way to ever affording it. But he jumped into the title suddenly and then, of course, he married right away. He had to. You’d know what a hurry he must have been in to look at my mamma-in-law’s portrait.” “Was she so very beautiful?” “No; she was so very homely. Maude’s very like her.” Jack laughed. She laughed, too. “Aren’t we happy together?” she asked. “My sky knows but one cloud,” he rejoined, “and that is that Monday comes after Sunday.” “But we shall meet again,” said Mrs. Rosscott. “Because,” she added mischievously, “I don’t suppose that it’s on account of my cousin Maude that you rebel at the approach of Monday.” “No,” said Jack. “It may not be polite to say so to you, but I wasn’t in the least thinking of your cousin.” “Poor girl!” said Mrs. Rosscott thoughtfully; “and she was so sweet to you, too. Mustn’t it be terrible to have a face like that?” “It must indeed,” said Jack; “I can think of but one thing worse.” “What?” “To marry a face like that.” She laughed again. “You’re cruel,” she declared; “after all her face isn’t her fortune, so what does it matter?” “It doesn’t matter at all to me,” said Jack. “I know of very few things that can matter less to me than Miss Lorne’s face.” “Now, you’re cruel again; and she was so nice to you too. Absolutely, I don’t believe that the edges of her smile came together once while she was talking to you last night.” “Did you spy on us to that extent?” said Jack. “I wouldn’t have believed it of you.” “Oh, I’m very awful,” she said airily. “You’ll be more surprised the farther you penetrate into the wilderness of my ways.” “And when will I have a chance to plunge into the jungle, do you think?” “Any Saturday or Sunday that you happen to be in town.” “Are you going to live in town?” “For a while. I’ve taken a house until the beginning of July. I expect some friends over, and I want to entertain them.” Jack felt the sky above become refulgent. He was in the habit of spending every Saturday night in the city—he and Burnett together. “May I come as often as I like?” he asked. “Certainly,” said she; “because you know if you should come too often I can tell the man at the door to say I’m ‘not at home’ to you.”