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WHY was Mrs. Perry in such a rage?" asked Teresa calmly, as they walked up toward the Park.
She walked more easily, with more energy, than she had done for many months, and her face above the grey fur looked suddenly animated, though by no means happy.
"In a rage, was she? Why, what did she say? She didn't like my spoiling the picture," Basil answered off-hand.
"Was that what she was crying about?"
"She wasn't crying—Teresa!"
"She had been, about five minutes before. She was in a thorough hysterical passion. I'm not exactly blind, Basil."
"You're fanciful, like all women," he said uncomfortably. "Now, don't—please, dearest!—don't fancy things. You don't know how happy I am to have you here with me, looking like your dear old self again—I'm so happy that you felt like coming out. We'll dine together as we used to do—oh, how I have missed you, these last months!"
His voice shook, and he took her hand and put it through his arm. It was dusk. The
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