ought a little car, and moved out riotously with a pioneering
hallucination that would have confounded Balboa.

"Your room will be here!" they cried in turn.

--And then:

"And my room here!"

"And the nursery here when we have children."

"And we'll build a sleeping porch--oh, next year."

They moved out in April. In July Jeffrey's closest friend, Harry
Cromwell same to spend a week--they met him at the end of the long
lawn and hurried him proudly to the house.

Harry was married also. His wife had had a baby some six months before
and was still recuperating at her mother's in New York. Roxanne had
gathered from Jeffrey that Harry's wife was not as attractive as
Harry--Jeffrey had met her once and considered her--"shallow." But
Harry had been married nearly two years and was apparently happy, so
Jeffrey guessed that she was probably all right.

"I'm making biscuits," chattered Roxanne gravely. "Can you wife make
biscuits? The cook is showing me how. I think every woman should know
how to make biscuits. It sounds so utterly disarming. A woman who can
make biscuits can surely do no----"

"You'll have to come out here and live," said Jeffrey. "Get a place
out in the country like us, for you and Kitty."

"You don't know Kitty. She hates the country. She's got to have her
theatres and vaudevilles."

"Bring her out," repeated Jeffrey. "We'll have a colony. There's an
awfully nice crowd here already. Bring her out!"

They were at the porch steps now and Roxanne made a brisk gesture
toward a dilapidated structure on the right.

"The garage," she announced. "It will also be Jeffrey's writing-room
within the month. Meanwhile dinner is at seven. Meanwhile to that I
will mix a cocktail."

The two men ascended to the second floor--that is, they ascended
half-way, for at the first landing Jeffrey dropped his guest's
suitcase and in a cross between a query and a cry exclaimed:

"For God's sake, Harry, how do you like her?"

"We will go up-stairs," answered his guest, "and we will shut the
door."

Half an hour later as they were sitting together in the library
Roxanne reissued from the kitchen, bearing before her a pan of
biscuits. Jeffrey and Harry rose.

"They're beautiful, dear," said the husband, intensely.

"Exquisite," murmured Harry.

Roxanne beamed.

"Taste one. I couldn't bear to touch them before you'd seen them all
and I can't bear to take them back until I find what they taste like."

"Like ma