Severance could do it on
her salary. But what a perfect little apartment--and even supposing all
the furniture and so forth were family inheritances, and they fitted each
other much too smoothly for that, the mere upkeep of the place must run a
good deal beyond any "Mode" salary. Mr. Severance? Ted wasn't sure. Oh,
well he was too comfortable at the moment to look gift horses of any
description too sternly in the mouth.
Rose _was_ beautiful--it was Ted and Rose by now. He would like to see
someone paint her sometime as Summer, drowsy and golden, passing through
fields of August, holding close to her rich warm body the tall sheaves of
her fruitful corn. And again the firelight crept close to him, and under
its touch all his senses stirred like leaves in light wind, glad to be
hurt with firelight and then left soothed and heavy and warm.
Only now he had a charm against what the firelight meant--what it had been
meaning more and more these last few weeks with Rose Severance. It was not
a very powerful-looking charm--a dozen lines of a letter from Elinor Piper
asking him to come to Southampton, but it began "Dear Ted" and ended
"Elinor" and he thought it would serve.