was diverted from her face to the high, old-fashioned room, with its marble mantel carved in fruits and flowers and its bare sideboard. Then Viola said:
"Your sister-in-law always gets her plants from the large florists, does n't she? Some one on Kearney or Sutter Street?"
"I dare say she does; but I 'm sure I don't know. I can't control my curiosity any further—what were you going to do with those round bits of paper you were cutting when I came in?"
She looked at him quickly, a look of sharp, dubious inquiry; then, as she met the amused curiosity of his glance, she gave a little laugh and said:
"I was going to make jam."
"But you don't make jam out of paper?"
"No; those are for the tops of the glasses. I soak them in brandy and put them on, and they preserve it."
He looked at the papers, then back at her. As their eyes met the delight each felt in the other's presence found expression in a simultaneous burst of laughter. For a moment they stood facing each other, laughing in foolish but happy lightness of heart.
"Now, you know," he said, "I 'm a credulous person, but is n't that going too far? Why, if you used all those things you 'd have jam enough to feed the American army."
