this arrangement. On the alternate years, they came back and spent two
years' income living in their house.

Florence was an old friend of Rodney's and it was her notion that it
would be just the thing he'd want. She made no professions of
altruism--admitted she was fussy about whom she rented her darling house
to, and that Rodney and his wife would be exactly right. Still, she
didn't believe he could do better. They'd have to have some sort of
place to live in, in the autumn. It would be such a mistake to buy a lot
of stuff in a hurry and find out later that they didn't want it! The
arrangement she proposed would leave him an idyllically untroubled
summer--nothing to fuss about, and provide ... Well, Rodney knew for
himself what the house was--complete down to the cork-screws.

Even the servant question was eliminated. "Ours are so good," Florence
said, "that the last time we rented the house, we put them in the lease.
I wouldn't do that with you, of course, but I know they'll be just what
you want." And six thousand dollars a year was simply dirt cheap.

To clinch the thing, Florence went around and saw Frederica about it.
And Frederica, after listening, non-committally, dashed off to the last
meeting of the Thursday Club (all this happened in June, just before the
wedding) and talked the matter over with Violet Williamson on the way
home, afterward.

"John said once," observed Violet, "that if he had to live in that
house, he'd either go out and buy a plush Morris chair from
feather-your-nest Saltzman's, and a golden oak sideboard, or else run
amuck."