Stay in bed! I never felt better in my life. I had my stew, and then I
went up-stairs and finished copying my novel.
At noon to the minute Roger returned. He had all sorts of things for
me: flowers,--orchids, mind you!--squab, fruit, jelly, and magazines.
One would think I was an invalid, and I had to laugh at his look
of disapproval when he discovered me busy at work. He said I was
incorrigible.
He made no effort that day to conceal his feelings from me. It was not
that he petted or caressed me; but he fussed over me all day, kept
me right by the fire, and brought up my luncheon to me, as he said
the lower floor was draughty. He kept feeling my head to see if I was
feverish. I think I gave him a good fright the night before. He said
he ought to have returned to Richmond the previous night, as there was
important business there that needed his attention. He'd been obliged
to keep the wires scorching all the morning. He would have to get away
that night, however; but he wanted to make absolutely certain that I
had recovered.
He said that he had been obliged to hasten his return, neglecting
certain business in Europe, because I had not written to him as
I promised to do. I did write him once, but the letter must have
miscarried. However, he was not in a scolding mood that day, and every
minute I thought he was going to pick me up in his arms.
He wanted to know if I had missed him, and I tried to pretend that I
hadn't, that I had been absorbed in my writing. He looked so solemn
over that and so far, far away from me that I wanted instantly to put
my arms about his neck, and I debated with myself how I could reach
him. I pulled up the stool in front of him, stood on it, and in that
way reached his face. I gave him a quick kiss, and then jumped down. I
thought he would laugh at that, but he didn't. I did though; but while
I was laughing I suddenly thought of something that frightened me,
and I asked him if he had had a fine time in Europe, and added that I
supposed he had seen many lovely women.
I had a vague idea that France was simply brimming with fascinating,
irresistible, and beautiful sirens whom no man could possibly resist,
and the thought that Roger had been there made my heart almost stop
beating; but not for long, for he said very gravely:
"I never noticed anything nor any one. My mind was engrossed with one
thought only--my _own_ little girl in Chicago."
Then he asked me if I realized that he had spent fewer than ten days in
Europe, and that he had come here to me before even going to his home.
"Goodness!" I said slyly, "you _are_ interested in me, aren't you?"
He looked at me queerly then, and he said:
"Nora, I'm 'dippy' about you."
"Is that slang for love, Roger?" I asked, which made him laugh, and
then he tried to frown at me; but he could not. So he changed the
subject abruptly, and made me tell him about all the things that had
happened to me while he was away.
He said I was a "precious angel" for giving up Bennet, and that Butler
was a "conceited pup," and I was a "little idiot" to mind anything
he said. He wished _he_ had been there. He said Mrs. Martin was a
sycophant and a kowtowing old snob, and that he knew her well; and as
for my going on the stage! One would think I was considering jumping
off the face of the earth.
I told him he was pretty nearly as bad as the little Japanese, and he
laughed and said:
"That Jap's all right. By George! I like his idea. It would give me
peculiar satisfaction to wring the necks of one or two people we know,"
and he clapped his fist into his hand.