"Two, please."

It seemed very pleasant to Allison to sit there in the warm, sunny room,
with Rose opposite him, pouring his coffee. There was an air of cosiness
and domestic peace about it hitherto outside his experience. For the
first time he was conscious of the peculiar graciousness and sense of
home that only a home-loving woman may give to a house.

"I like this," he said, as he took the steaming cup. "I'd like to do it
often."

"We'd like to have you," she returned, hospitably.

"I thought you all had breakfast together at some fixed hour, and early
at that."

"How little you know Aunt Francesca! You can have breakfast in this
house in any room you choose, at any hour before noon, all the year
round. Sometimes we're all together, sometimes only two. Usually,
however I'm alone, as I seem to get up a little earlier than the
others."

"I think I'll drop in occasionally, then. It looks as if there'd always
be somebody to bear me company. Perhaps I'll bring Dad, too. He'd like
to have you pour his coffee."

There was no mistaking the admiration in Allison's eyes and Rose turned
hers away. He sat with his back to the dining-room door and she, across
from him, faced it squarely. For the merest fraction of a second Isabel,
in a pink silk negligee, stood in the doorway, then vanished, as