"And—and I fear he will next make love to me!" cried Sweetheart.
"You'd better look out, Jack," said Clifford darkly, and pretended to sulk until Sweetheart sent him off to buy the bonbons she would need for the train.
"They're packed," I said, "every trunk of them!"
Sweetheart was enchanted. "All my new gowns, and the shoes from Rix's—Jack, you didn't forget the shoes and the bath robes and"
"All packed," I said, swallowing the tea with a wry face.
"Oh," she cried reproachfully, "don't drink that! Here, I will have some hot tea in a moment," and she ran over and perched on the arm of the garden bench while I lighted the alcohol lamp and then a cigarette.
Rowden came up with his offering of lilacs, and she decorated each of us with a spray.
It was growing late. The long shadows fell across the gravel walks and flecked the white walls of the sculptor's studio opposite.
"It's the nine-o'clock train, isn't it?" said Elliott.
"We will meet you at the station at eight-thirty," added Rowden.
"You don't mind, do you, our dining alone?" said Sweetheart shyly; "it's our last day—Jack's and mine—in the old studio."
