It was. But it was empty and cold and dusky. Frances went over to the
high, black-painted mantel and leaned against it looking down on the
fireless hearth. She was thinking how desolate it was. He, for one
flashing second, saw again his vision. For an instant it shone--the
fire, the furnishings, the happy woman.
He stepped forward impulsively. "It lacks one thing," he blurted,
without a moment's thought of what she would think of his speech.
"Two!" she said lightly.
"Furnishings as well," he said in his mind, "furnishings and a
mistress," he repeated in his heart, but before he could open his lips,
she was saying, "Two!"
"What?" he asked breathlessly.
"Steam heat and an electric plant!"