Hence his London drag and appointments; hence the yacht and a four-in-hand—­then a great novelty—­ all of which he had promised her should she decide to join him at home.  Hence, too, his luxuriously fitted-up bachelor quarters in Philadelphia, and his own comfortable apartments in his late father’s house, where his sister Sue lived; and hence, too, his cosey rooms in the best corner of the Beach Haven hotel, with a view overlooking Barnegat Light and the sea.

None of these things indicated in the smallest degree that this noble gentleman contemplated finally settling down in a mansion commensurate with his large means, where he and the pretty widow could enjoy their married life together; nothing was further from his mind—­nothing could be—­he loved his freedom too much.  What he wanted, and what he intended to have, was her undivided companionship —­at least for the summer; a companionship without any of the uncomfortable complications which would have arisen had he selected an unmarried woman or the wife of some friend to share his leisure and wealth.

The woman he picked out for the coming season suited him exactly.  She was blonde, with eyes, mouth, teeth, and figure to his liking (he had become critical in forty odd years—­twenty passed as an expert); dressed in perfect taste, and wore her clothes to perfection; had a Continental training that made her mistress of every situation, receiving with equal ease and graciousness anybody, from a postman to a prince, sending them away charmed and delighted; possessed money enough of her own not to be too much of a drag upon him; and—­best of all (and this was most important to the heir of Walnut Hill)—­ had the best blood of the State circling in her veins.  Whether this intimacy might drift into something closer, compelling him to take a reef in his sails, never troubled him.  It was not the first time that he had steered his craft between the Scylla of matrimony and the Charybdis of scandal, and he had not the slightest doubt of his being able to do it again.

As for Lucy, she had many plans in view.  One was to get all the fun possible out of the situation; another was to provide for her future.  How this was to be accomplished she had not yet determined.  Her plans were laid, but some of them she knew from past experience might go astray.  On one point she had made up her mind—­not to be in a hurry.  In furtherance of these schemes she had for some days—­some months, in fact—­been making preparations for an important move.  She knew that its bare announcement would come as a surprise to Jane and Martha and, perhaps, as a shock, but that did not shake her purpose.  She furthermore expected more or less opposition when they fully grasped her meaning.  This she intended to overcome.  Neither Jane nor Martha, she said to herself, could be angry with her for long, and a few kisses and an additional flow of good-humor would soon set them to laughing again.