Austin was, indeed, almost beside himself with surprise and delight when,
as he left the train and walked down the long platform in the Grand
Central Station, he saw Sylvia, dressed in pure white serge, standing
near the gate. He waved his hat like a schoolboy, and hurried forward,
setting down his suit-case to grip her hands in both of his.

"Have you had any breakfast?" she asked, as they started off.

"Yes, indeed, an hour ago."

"Then where would you like to go first? I have the motor here, and we're
both entirely at your disposal."

He hesitated a moment, and then said, laughing, "It didn't occur to me
that you'd come to the station, and I fully intended to go somewhere and
get a hair-cut that wouldn't proclaim me as coming straight from
Hamstead, Vermont, and replenish the wardrobe that looked so
inexhaustible to me last fall, before I presented myself to you."

Sylvia joined in his laugh. "Go ahead. I'll sit in the motor and wait
for you. Afterwards we'll go shopping together."

"To buy things like these?" he asked, eyeing her costume with approval.

"No. I have enough clothes now. I was going to begin choosing our
furniture--and thought you might be interested. Get in, dear, this is
ours," she said, walking up to the limousine which Sally had described
with such enthusiasm, and which now stood waiting for her, its door held
open by a French chauffeur, who was smiling with true Gallic appreciation
of his mistress's "affaire de coeur," "and here," she added, after they