He was business manager of the school and was doing well,
but she wanted to point out to him the larger field. So long as she was
uncertain of his attitude toward her, it was difficult to act; but now,
since the flash of the imminent tragedy at Cresswell Oaks had cleared
the air, with all its hurt a frank understanding had been made possible.
The very next day Zora chose to show Bles over her new home and grounds,
and to speak frankly to him. They looked at the land, examined the
proposed farm sites, and viewed the living-room and dormitory in the
house.
"You haven't seen my den," said Zora.
"No."
"Miss Smith is in there now; she often hides there. Come."
He went into the large central house and into the living-room, then out
on the porch, beyond which lay the kitchen. But to the left, and at the
end of the porch, was a small building. It was ceiled in dark yellow
pine, with figured denim on the walls. A straight desk of rough hewn
wood stood in the corner by the white-curtained window, and a couch and
two large easy-chairs faced a tall narrow fireplace of uneven stone. A
thick green rag-carpet covered the floor; a few pictures were on the
walls--a Madonna, a scene of mad careering horses, and some sad baby
faces. The room was a unity; things fitted together as if they belonged
together. It was restful and beautiful, from the cheerful pine blaze
before which Miss Smith was sitting, to the square-paned window that let
in the crimson rays of gathering night.
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