"We're not half through," he said, "and I am not thinking of the expense. I am delighted with everything you have suggested. I shudder when I think how helpless I should have been without you. Didn't I tell you in the beginning that I wanted you to fix this house up just as if you were planning to live in it yourself? Put down all the things you would most like to have, Viola, and--and--well, confound the expense. Come along! We're losing time. Did you jot down that last thing we were talking about? That--er--that--" He paused, wrinkling his forehead. "I don't believe you have been paying any attention to what--Now, tell me, what WAS the last thing we were talking about?" He squinted hard at the little blank book in her hand. She closed it with a snap. "Have you got it down?" he demanded severely. "I have." "Then, there's no use worrying about it," he said, with great satisfaction. "Now, let me see: don't you think I ought to have a clock for the mantelpiece?" "I put that down half an hour ago," she said. "The big gold French clock I was telling you about." "That's so. The one you like so well down at Currie's." They proceeded. He had followed about, carrying the ink pot into which she frequently dipped the big quill pen. She overlooked nothing in the scantily furnished house. She even went so far as to timidly suggest that certain articles of furniture might well be replaced by more attractive ones, and he had promptly agreed. At last she announced that she must go home. "If you buy all the things we have put down here, Kenny, you will have the loveliest house in Lafayette. My, how I shall envy you!" "I have a feeling I shall be very lonely--amidst all this splendour," he said. "Oh, no, you won't. I shall run in to see you every whipstitch. You will get awfully sick of having me around." "I am thinking of the time when you are married, Viola, and,--and have gone away from Lafayette." "Well," she began, her brow clouding, "you seem to have got along without me for a good many years,--so I guess you won't miss me as much as you think. Besides, we are supposed to be enemies, aren't we?" "It doesn't look much like it now, does it?" "No," she said dubiously, "but I--I must not do anything that will make mother feel unhappy or--" He broke in a little harshly. "Are you forgetting how unhappy it will make her if you marry Barry Lapelle?" "Oh, that may be a long way off," she replied calmly. "You see, Barry and I quarrelled yesterday. We both have vile tempers,--perfectly detestable tempers. Of course, we will make up again--we always do--but there may come a time when he will say, 'Oh, what's the use trying to put up with you any longer?' and then it will all be over." She was tying her bonnet strings as she made this astonishing statement. Her chin being tilted upward, she looked straight up into his eyes the while her long, shapely fingers busied themselves with the ribbons.