"
"That's so,--I heard it as I came in," said Mr. Rushbrook, calmly. "I
don't know but you're right."
CHAPTER IV
Six months had passed. The Villa of Maecenas was closed at Los Osos
Canyon, and the southwest trade-winds were slanting the rains of the wet
season against its shut windows and barred doors. Within that hollow,
deserted shell, its aspect--save for a single exception--was unchanged;
the furniture and decorations preserved their eternal youth undimmed
by time; the rigidly-arranged rooms, now closed to life and light,
developed more than ever their resemblance to a furniture warehouse.
The single exception was the room which Grace Nevil had rearranged for
herself; and that, oddly enough, was stripped and bare--even to its
paper and mouldings.
In other respects, the sealed treasures of Rushbrook's villa, far from
provoking any sentimentality, seemed only to give truth to the current
rumor that it was merely waiting to be transformed into a gorgeous
watering-place hotel under Rushbrook's direction; that, with its new
ball-room changed into an elaborate dining-hall, it would undergo still
further improvement, the inevitable end and object of all Rushbrook's
enterprise; and that its former proprietor had already begun another
villa whose magnificence should eclipse the last.
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