He smiled down at her. "What?"

"That a few words should make such a difference?"

"Yes. A minute ago she belonged to us. Now she's Gordon's."

"And he's taking her to England?"

"Yes. But not for long. When he gets the branch office started over
there, they'll come back, and he'll take his father's place in the
business here, and let the old man retire."

She was not listening. "Barry," she interrupted, "what will Mary do?
She can't live here alone--and she'll miss Constance."

"Oh, Aunt Frances has fixed that," easily; "she wants Mary to shut up the
house and spend the winter in Nice with herself and Grace--it's a great
chance for Mary."

"But what about you, Barry?"

"Me?" He shrugged his shoulders and again smiled down at her. "I'll find
quarters somewhere, and when I get too lonesome, I'll come over and talk
to you, Leila."

The rich color flooded her cheeks. "Do come," she said, again with
quick-drawn breath, then like a child who has secured its coveted
sugar-plum, she slipped through the crowd, and down into the dining-room,
where she found Mary taking a last survey.