And while she designed and Conning watched and suggested, they talked of
his long-neglected work.
"You'll have time soon, Con, to give it your best thought. Did you do
much while you were away?"
"Yes, Lyn, a great deal!" Truedale was sitting by the tiny hearth in his
diminutive living room. He and Lynda had demanded, and finally
succeeded in obtaining an open space for real logs; disdaining, much to
the owner's amazement, an asbestos mat or gas monstrosity. "I really put
blood in the thing."
"And when may I hear some of it? I'm wild to get back to our beaten
tracks."
Truedale raised his eyes, but he was looking beyond Lynda; he was seeing
Nella-Rose in the nest he was preparing for her.
"Soon, Lyn. Soon. And when you do--you, of all the world, will
understand, sympathize, and approve."
"Thank you, Con, thank you. Of course I will, but it is good to have you
know it! Let me see, what colour scheme shall we introduce in the living
room?"
"Couldn't we have a sort of blue-gray; a rather smoky tint with sunshine
in it?"
"Good heavens, Con! And it is a north room, too."
"Well, then, how about a misty, whitish--"
"Worse and worse. Con, in a north room there must be warmth and real
colour."
"There will be. But put what you choose, Lyn, it will surely be all
right."
"Suppose, then, we make it golden brown, or--dull, soft reds?"
Truedale recalled the shabby little shawl that Nella-Rose had worn
before she donned her winter disguise.
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