ven did interest her, largely because of his interest in herself. They fell at once into easy companionship, spending all the afternoons together, and the evenings generally at Nina's house, where Crayven made the fourth, instead of Nina, at bridge, which he played by turns very well and very badly. Ernesto, though greatly bored by the bad weather and the place in general, and threatening each day to depart, stayed on for a fortnight; by the end of which time the skies had cleared into delicious warmth, and all the charms of the valley were in full display.
Teresa's mood also had lightened progressively. With Ernesto no real companionship had been possible; he was at once too sentimental and too frivolous. Crayven was neither. Their talk was generally grave, but it stimulated Teresa, and she talked more than Crayven. She found his point of view, as she came to know it better, what she called appallingly middle-aged. Crayven frankly said that work was the only thing in the world that was decently worth while, and that work was only good for its own sake and without regard to results, about the value of which, in any case, he showed a profound scepticism. This was his attitude toward his own occupation, about which, however, he talked with interest to Teresa. He described to her in detail the place which had been for years—for at least three-fourths of each year—his abode, and where
