le town.

So Delia, a little later, limped after them with Peter following,
confidently.

"And you flirted with Justin," Anthony remarked on the way over.

"Yes. In the little tea room. Diana and Mrs. Martens sat at one table,
and Mr. Ford and I at the other--and he was so funny--and I----Well,
_any one_ looking on might have thought I was in earnest."

"What did Diana think?"

"Oh, she knows how I feel about you----"

"And Justin, does he know?"

"Of course not. It's not announced, you know."

"But if he should take you in earnest."

"Silly," Bettina tucked her hand in his arm, "nobody takes me in
earnest--but you----"

Her hesitation was charming, but he did not respond ardently, and
perhaps she missed something in his manner, for presently she asked,
"Are you jealous?"

"My dear, no. Children must play----"

She sighed a little. "Am I such a child?"

He laughed again. "Of course, you're a mere baby--but a dear baby, Betty
mine."

And with that she was content.

The big house was not furnished.

"I am going to put in the things which were in the old house before I
turned it into a sanatorium. My grandfather was a sea captain, and I
have a model of a ship carved by one of his sailors out of soup bones,
and there are two great china tureens in the shape of swans, and some
ivories and queer embroidered screens that I wouldn't take anything for.
It's a sort of jumble for a modern residence, but I like it. And I have
had the house built in a style which will be in keeping with my
belongings. It's rocky and rugged and there's a fireplace in every room.
I like to burn logs for cheerfulness even when there's a furnace--and to
come home to the light of them on winter nights."

"I love pretty new things," Bettina informed him. "May I have all white
for my room? With ivory things on my dresser with silver monograms,
and--white fur rugs?"

Her room!

It came to Anthony, with the force of a blow, that there was no room in
the big house for Bettina.

Why, that room was Diana's--that room which looked out on Minot's. He
had thought of her as inhabiting it. He had never meant that the great
light should say, "I love you," to Bettina.

For months, even when he felt that he had lost Diana, her spirit had
seemed to dwell in the place he had planned for her. Whenever he had
entered her room it had not seemed bare, for his imagination had filled
it with the furniture which had been his grandmother's wedding se