and I are to each other, my darling," he said, "you begin to talk
of reason. Love isn't reason, Cherie. It's the divinest unreason
in the world! Cherie, there's never been another woman for me;
there never will be! It's nothing to me that there are obstacles--
I love them--I glory in them! I can't live without you; I don't
want to! You're frightened now, you don't know how we can manage
it. But I'll find the way. The only thing that matters is that you
must belong to me--you SHALL belong to me--as I to you in every
fibre of my being--"

"Tony--for Heaven's sake--!" Isabelle was in an agony. Somebody
was approaching. He had gotten to his feet, and was gloomily
staring at the river, when Nina Carter, followed by a great white
Russian hound, came flying down the steps.

"Mother--" Nina, a tall, overgrown girl, with spectacles on her
straight nose, and straight, light-brown hair in thick braids,
stopped short and gave her mother's companion a look of withering
distaste. "Mother," she began again, "aren't you coming up for
tea? Granny's there, and the others, from tennis, and Mrs. Bellamy
telephoned that she's bringing some people over, and there's
nobody there but Granny and me!"

Nina was like her New England father, conscientious, serious,
gravely condemnatory of the lax and the unconventional.

"Ask Betty Allen to pour," said Mrs. Carter, regaining her
composure rapidly, and assuming the air of hostess at once.

"Betty went home for a tub," Nina explained. "She's coming back.