THE wedding journey was to last two weeks. David had arranged business affairs so that he could be away that long but he had never discussed the time with Fidelia.
"We can stay here thirteen days more?" David asked her on their first morning in camp; and it seemed to him he hoped an incredible thing.
"Why, David, of course I can, if you can."
"I mean," he explained, "no one's expecting you?"
"Who'd expect me?" she asked.
"Or you've nothing else to do?"
"Why, what else have I to do than to be your wife, David?" she answered and kissed him, lovingly.
"That's right," said David, wonderingly and held her hand clasped in his. They had been in the lake together; they had raced on the beach; they had cooked and eaten their camp breakfast. After bathing, Fidelia had put up her hair before it was quite dried; now she shook it down and it was over her shoulders in a bronze and golden shower. They sat, side by side, in the sun on the warm, white sand with the lake rippling at their feet. They had no duty to trouble them; they could be idle for hours, if they liked, they could follow wholly their inclination.
None of this seemed strange to Fidelia; to her, it
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