with my son away on the same boat. I don't suppose she will, but somehow I'm going to find out more about her, if I have to go to Madame Boulangeat."
Nathan had never ridden in a limousine before his wedding-day, and Reba only when Mr. Joseph Horween, the general-manager of the mills at home, had picked her up, on one or two occasions as he had been passing her in his car. The sailor glanced shyly at Reba, and was struck with the harmony between her and the luxurious background. The limousine was lined with dark, purplish-colored broadcloth, and it set off Madame Boulangeat's costume like a velvet-lined box a jewel. It matched the very heliotropes in the tiny bunches of flowers that Reba wore. Everything about himself, on the other hand, clashed and swore with the purple richness. A wave of humility swept chokingly over him. Why, but for the clergyman's gently detaining hand upon his arm, in his awkwardness he would have plunged into the car in front of the girl he had just promised to love and cherish. She must have noticed! She must be aware of his utter unfitness for such an interior as this—silk-curtained and tasseled—for such dainty exquisiteness as hers! His first words alone with her after their marriage were murmured apologetically, in a low tone.
"Are you sorry you've done it?" he asked.
Reba turned steady eyes toward him. She never felt calmer in her life. The miraculous assurance of the early morning had not deserted her one whit. When she spoke her voice had a glad, defiant tone.
"I'm not the least bit sorry in the world!" she exclaimed.
For months and months Nathan fed his hungry
