II
THEY found a house on Long Island, and Teresa took a perverse pleasure in the fact that it was within an easy distance of Mrs. Perry's big country-place. Basil had objected to this neighbourhood, but had been overruled. The house was exactly what they wanted—an old farmstead, which had been made habitable by a painter of their acquaintance. It had a big studio, a straggling old-fashion garden, and an orchard where Ronald could play. There were glimpses of the sea. They put in some of their furniture, which had been stored, and Teresa announced that they were settled till December, by which time they might perhaps have found their permanent home. This, she said, must be in some place not infested by the rich; where, therefore, land needn't be bought by the square inch.
Meantime she devoted herself with great energy to the task of making their temporary abode comfortable. She became an active housewife, and sang gaily as she went about with her sleeves rolled up, ordering the place. Basil had settled himself promptly into the studio, where he welcomed interruption. He announced that he was hard at work, but when Teresa passed the door or Ronald looked in at the window, he seized
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