It seemed like a feast to Jacoba and very different from the one little egg she had cooked for herself at The Gables.
Because she thought it was sensible, she ate a great deal more than she really wanted.
She was just finishing her second cup of coffee when the Viscount came into the room.
“I am late!” he blurted out. “With no excuses except that I slept rather badly last night.”
He did not add that it was because he was worrying about her.
He thought in her travelling gown and the little hat on the back of her head she looked even lovelier than she had last night.
He put some food on his plate and sat down at the table.
“I have not had time to ask you about yourself,” he turned to Jacoba. “I am very curious as to why, looking as you do, you have to earn your own living.”
“I never
