roads. It was dark when she reached the house, and Basil came out to meet her.
"An accident?" he said irritably. "I thought there would be one—it's lucky your neck isn't broken. I wish you wouldn't go out on that sort of a tear again."
"Oh, it's amusing," said Teresa coldly.
"Amusing! You find those people amusing! Or was it the chance of breaking your neck that amused you?"
"Both, I think. I like the sensation of something happening, even if it's only rushing along in a motor."
"Or swilling cocktails at lunch and flirting, I suppose?"
"I didn't swill any cocktails. Really, Basil, you're turning over a new leaf."
"I'm not the only one. I don't care much for this last leaf that you've turned over. Alice is getting too vulgar"
"Anything is better than living in an ice-box, as I've been doing lately."
"Is it? All right, but if you want to bring that sort out here, I shall have to work in town."
He went into the studio, and Teresa looked after him despairingly. After a few moments she followed him. The room was dark, except for the firelight. He had thrown himself into a big chair before the fire, and was staring into it,
