I should never have asked you if Molly had been here, for I remember you
don't like English cookery."
Alexander walked about the room, looking at everything.
"I haven't had a chance yet to tell you what a jolly little place I
think this is. Where did you get those etchings? They're quite unusual,
aren't they?"
"Lady Westmere sent them to me from Rome last Christmas. She is very
much interested in the American artist who did them. They are all
sketches made about the Villa d'Este, you see. He painted that group of
cypresses for the Salon, and it was bought for the Luxembourg."
Alexander walked over to the bookcases. "It's the air of the whole place
here that I like. You haven't got anything that doesn't belong. Seems to
me it looks particularly well to-night. And you have so many flowers. I
like these little yellow irises."
"Rooms always look better by lamplight--in London, at least. Though
Marie is clean--really clean, as the French are. Why do you look at the
flowers so critically? Marie got them all fresh in Covent Garden market
yesterday morning."
"I'm glad," said Alexander simply. "I can't tell you how glad I am to
have you so pretty and comfortable here, and to hear every one saying
such nice things about you. You've got awfully nice friends," he added
humbly, picking up a little jade elephant from her desk. "Those fellows
are all very loyal, even Mainhall. They don't talk of any one else as
they do of you."
Hilda sat down on the couch and said seriously: "I've a neat little sum
in the bank, too, now, and I own a mite of a hut in Galway.
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