VII
TWO days later came the first snow storm of A the winter. The house was cold and uncomfortable. Basil was alone in it all day, for Teresa had gone, early in the morning, to look up a real estate agent. Their plan of buying a house had lain dormant all this time, but now the idea had taken possession of her mind, and with all her energy she was bent on working it out. For one element of doubt, which had lately reduced all plans to chaos, was now removed. It was certain, at least, that she and Basil were not to separate. They would go on together; on what terms Teresa was not yet absolutely sure, but, she rather thought, on her terms.
She came back late for dinner, tired, chilled, unsuccessful in her first search, but cheerful, to find Basil hanging restlessly about the house, not having been able, he said, to work that day. Over their dinner she described gaily the outrageous defects of the houses she had seen, and praised their present domicile by comparison. Basil was gloomy, drank a great deal of whisky, listened absently to what she was saying, and finally said that he thought they would have to stay where they were for the winter; they couldn't
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