In the next three weeks she left him little chance to think of anything but of his work and of Frances. She talked of nothing else at lunch; she talked of nothing else on Saturday afternoons and on Sundays and whenever they met on other days. This had its effect. It accustomed him to associate together the two chief objectives in his life until in his thoughts they became synonymous. For the first time since their engagement, he began to think of Frances as an essential feature of his everyday affairs. He began to think about what changes in the house would be necessary before she came. He talked this over with Miss Winthrop. "I wish you could come up and look the place over before Frances gets here," he said to her one day. If the color left her face for a second, it came back the next with plenty to spare. The idea was preposterous, and yet it appealed to her strangely. "I wish I could," she answered sincerely. "Well, why can't you?" he asked. "It's impossible--of course," she said. "I could arrange a little dinner and ask some one to chaperon," he suggested. "It's out of the question," she answered firmly. "You can tell me all about it." "But telling you about it isn't like letting you see it," he said. "It is almost as good, and--almost as good is something, isn't it?" There was a suppressed note in her voice that made him look up. He had caught many such notes of late. Sometimes, as now, he half expected to find her eyes moist when he looked up. He never did; he always found her smiling. "I'd have Nora give everything a thorough cleaning before September," she advised. "I'll do that," he nodded. He wrote it down in his notebook, and that night spoke to Nora about it. She appeared decidedly interested. "It's possible that in the fall you may have some one else besides me to look after," he confided to her in explanation. "It's to be soon, sir?" she asked eagerly. "In September, perhaps," he admitted. "It would please your father, sir," she answered excitedly. "It's lonesome it's been for you, sir." He did not answer, but he thought about that a little. No, it had not been exactly lonesome for him--not lately. That was because he was looking ahead. That was it. "It hasn't seemed quite natural for you to be living on here alone, sir," she ventured. "Dad lived here alone," he reminded her. "Not at your age, sir," answered Nora. From that moment there was much ado in the house. Don came home at night to find certain rooms draped in dusting clothes, later to appear as fresh and immaculate as if newly furnished. This gave him a great sense of responsibility. He felt married already. He came downtown in the morning a little more serious, and took hold of his work with greater vigor.