Kerr wore the dinner jacket from the best tailor in town, and after
they had progressed a little with their wine--they had a half-bottle
_every_ night; what would the bill be?--they would look into each
other's eyes of wonder and murmur: "I always knew we'd have a
beautiful honeymoon; but I never imagined it could be so beautiful as
this."

Later, much later, when the evening's delights had gone by in soft
procession, they went to other delights. Osborn brushed Marie's hair
with the tortoise shell-back brushes he had given her for a wedding
gift, and compared it with the Golden Fleece, the wealth of Sheba, the
dust of stars, till she was arrogant with the homage of man and he was
drunk with love of her.

They had their great wild happy moment to which every human being has
the right, and no one and nothing robbed them of it. It flowed to its
close like a summer's day, and the sun set upon it with great promise
of a like to-morrow.

But although the most darling dolly home waited for them in a suburb
of the great city where Osborn was to work away his young life like
other men, although each saw and recognised the promise of the sunset,
they were sad at leaving the palace which, for so short a time, they
had made-believe was theirs. A reason was present in the mind of each,
though, an irrefutable, hard-and-fast reason, why the stay could not
be prolonged, even though Osborn might beg, with success, for another
week's holiday. Each knew what the now mutual purse held; each, day by
day, had privately been adding the price of the half-bottle, and the
hire of the car, to the sum of "everything inclusive." Each had, of
necessity, a hard young head.