Nick refrained from mentioning this to Mrs. May, but when he had last seen
the Mission Inn at Riverside he had thought that he would like to come
there, next time, on his wedding trip. There had been no bride in view
then, or since; but now he remembered that wish. It was a good omen that
fate should have made the one woman of all the world his companion to-day.

He had not expected such a wonderful stroke of luck. The little blue auto
might actually have gone a whole day without mishap, or might not have
collapsed until after Mrs. May had lunched alone at the Glenwood. But here
they were, he and she, in his yellow car, sailing into Riverside together;
he driving, Angela by his side, talking as kindly as if she had forgiven
him his sins without being asked. If he had not thought it "wasn't playing
fair," he would have "made believe" like a small boy building air-castles,
pretending that it really was a wedding trip, and that he and his Angel
were about to have their first luncheon together.

"But she'd hate me even to make believe," he said to himself. "No! It
wouldn't be a fair dream to have, behind her back."

Yet it was difficult not to dream. Angela was so delighted with the
garden city watched by desert hills; and she said so innocently, "What
_sweet_ houses for brides and grooms! Oh, _no_ one except people in love
ought to live here!" that Nick had to bang the door of his dream-house
with violence. And for the first time since he had fallen in love with
Angela, he began to say, "Why not--why shouldn't I try to make her care?
There are folks who think you need only to want a thing enough to get it."

She appeared to him radiant as a being from a higher planet. Never could