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It was a
situation made to order for Harriet to take a hand in. She'd sized it up
at a glance, made up her mind in three minutes what was the sensible
thing for them to do, written a note to Florence McCrea in Paris, and
then bided her opportunity to put her idea into effect. She went out
cruising with Rose in the car two or three times, looking at places, but
gave her no indications that she felt more than the most languid
interest in the problem. She could seem less interested in a thing
without being quite impolite, than any one Rose knew.
When she got Florence McCrea's answer to her letter, she took the first
occasion to get Rodney off by himself and talk a little common sense
into him.
"What about where to live, Rodney?" she asked. "Made up your mind about
it yet? I suppose you know how many months there are between the first
of June and the first of October."
"We haven't got much of anywhere," he admitted. "We know we want to live
in the country, that's about all."
"Out in the country just as winter's getting started?" she asked.


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