"I hear you've been plunging!" she began gaily.
Sir Donald looked vague.
I'm afraid I scarcely--"
"Forgive me. I catch slang from my husband. He's ruining my English. I
mean that I hear you've been investing--shall I say your romance?--in a
wonderful place abroad, with a fascinating name. I hope you'll get
enormous interest."
A faint colour, it was like the ghost of a blush, rose in Sir Donald's
withered cheeks.
"Ah, Mr. Carey--"
He checked himself abruptly, remembering whet he had heard from Robin
Pierce.
"No, Mr. Pierce was my informant. He knows your place and says it's too
wonderful. I adore the name."
"Casa Felice. You would not advise me to change it, then?"
"Change it! Why?"
"Well, I--one should not, perhaps, insist beforehand that one is going to
have happiness, which must always lie on the knees of the gods."
"Oh, I believe in defiance."
There was an audacious sound in her voice. Her long talk with Leo Ulford
had given her back her belief in herself, her confidence in her beauty,
her reliance on her youth.
"You have a right to believe in it. But Casa Felice is mine."
"Even to buy it was a defiance--in a way."
"Perhaps so. But then--"
"But then you have set out and you must not turn back, Sir Donald.
Baptise your wonderful house yourself by filling it with happiness.
Another gave it its name. Give it yourself the reason for the name."
Happiness seemed to shine suddenly in the sound of her speaking voice, as
it shone in her singing voice when the theme of her song was joy.
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