After a long silence Thomas Hornby said, as if resuming a topic they had discussed and let rest for a little while, "I know it must seem soon—Easter, I mean—and you've known me only two weeks; but it isn't as if Henry didn't know all about me, or as if you'd never heard of me before. Is it? Really I'd like to have it Easter. It seems as if I couldn't wait very long to make a try at furnishing that little corner of heaven for you—damask, and soft carpets, and big closets, and a masseuse, and the last item, as well, that you said you'd like thrown in. Does Easter seem too absurdly soon to fit in with your plans? Of course, I want it to be as you wish. Tell me if I'm preposterously in a hurry, and I won't say another word." He paused an instant, but she made no response. "Why don't you say, Lucretia?" he asked gently.
Lucretia drew her hand away. "I suppose I don't say," she replied, "for the same reason I can't focus my thoughts on any topic in the world when there's a band playing outside in the street. When I hear you talking about—like this, it stirs me so that I simply can't do anything but wonder."
She rose and went over to the fire. With one toe on the brass fender, and leaning her fore-
