fishing, on the porch steps. The doctor had changed his unwonted
wedding finery for his shabby old smoking jacket, but Peter still
looked unnaturally well dressed. Alix stepped down to sit between
them, and her father's arm went about her. She snuggled against
him in an unusual mood of tenderness and quiet.

"Be nice to me!" she said, whimsically. "I'm lonely!"

"H'm!" her father said, significantly, tightening his arm. Peter
moved up on the other side and locked his own arm in her free one.
And so they sat, silent, depressed, their shoulders touching,
their sombre eyes fixed upon the shadowy depths of the forest into
which an October fog was softly and noiselessly creeping.




CHAPTER IV


Meanwhile, the hot train sped on, and the drab autumn country flew
by the windows, and still the bride sat wrapped in her dream,
smiling, musing, rousing herself to notice the scenery. The lap of
the cream-coloured gown held magazines and a box of candy, and in
the rack above her head were the new camera and the new umbrella
and the new suitcase.

When Martin asked her if she liked to be a married woman,
travelling with her husband, she smiled and said that it seemed
"funny." For the most part she was silent, pleased and interested,