"Have we? Opinions differ, I suppose."

She took no notice.

"I've never stayed in an hotel before," she went on, "so I suppose that's why I enjoyed everything so much. It will seem very quiet with Aunt Madge, won't it?"

"We need not stay with her."

"I think we must for a week or two, till something can be arranged."

Chris threw down a magazine he had picked up.

"What sort of arrangement would you like?" he asked. "I want you to please yourself in every way without considering me." He paused.

"I've got some rooms at Knightsbridge, you know," he went on casually. "I'm not at all sure that it wouldn't be a good idea to keep them on for a while."

Marie caught her breath with a little stifled sound.

"Keep them on?" she echoed.

"Yes--they're only bachelor rooms, but I've had some pretty good times there, and they might be handy until we can find something better."

"Yes."

"So I don't want you to feel tied at all," he went on. "I want you to do as you like, you know--have your own friends, and go about!

There isn't any need to worry about money--there's plenty."

"Yes," she said again stupidly; then, "I suppose father left a great deal?"

"He did, yes. I didn't bother you about the will--it wasn't necessary; but, of course, everything has been properly drawn up."

"Yes." She was not interested; what did mere money matter? It could not buy for her the only thing she wanted in the world.

They seemed to have left the sunshine behind them with the sea, for as they neared London the sky grew overcast and large raindrops splashed down and against the windows.

Marie looked at Chris; the last time she had traveled this way was when she was summoned from Paris at her father's death.

So much had happened since then, and yet Chris looked exactly the same, no older, no sadder, though she felt that she herself was both.

"I hope Mr. Dakers will come and see us soon," she said impulsively.

Chris laughed

"I don't suppose he will--he likes a free-and-easy life; he'd hate it if Aunt Madge expected him to get into dress togs every evening."

"Would he?" She felt despondent; she supposed that she could not expect anyone to wish to come and visit her.

She thought of her friend, Dorothy Webber, with envy. If only she had been like Dorothy, full of go and a great sportswoman, Chris would at least have been pleased to be with her for the sake of mutual tastes and agreeable companionship.

It was raining fast when they got to London; a crowd of people had come up on their train, and it was difficult to get a taxi.

Chris began to get irritable.

"Didn't you tell Aunt Madge what time we should arrive?" he asked.

"She might have sent the car."

"I didn't know what time--you hadn't decided when I wrote," Marie answered anxiously. "I am sure she would have sent the car if she had known."

Chris looked inclined to be sulky.

"I shall buy one of my own, and be independent." he said with a frown.

But they secured a taxi in the end, and Chris slammed the door and sat down beside his wife with a sigh of relief.

"I loathe traveling," he said.

She looked at him in surprise.

"I thought you liked it; you used to do a great deal before--before we were married."

He laughed.

"Oh, well, a bachelor's travels are rather different to taking a wife and half a dozen trunks along. It's the luggage that's such a bother." He sat up with sudden energy. "Marie Celeste, what are you going to tell Aunt Madge?"

"What do you mean?" But she knew quite well.

He avoided her eyes.

"You know what I mean. I don't want to talk about it, but it's just as well for us both to tell the same story, or at least not to contradict one another."

"I see. Well--I wasn't going to tell her anything. Why should I?

It's nothing to do with Aunt Madge."

He colored a little.

"Very well, if that is your wish; and--Marie Celeste?"

"Yes."

"I hope you've forgotten about this morning. I lost my temper; I ought not to have spoken to you as I did."

"It's all quite forgotten," she a.s.sured him steadily.

His face cleared.

"That's good; I don't want the old lady to think things are wrong already."

Marie almost laughed. Wrong already! He spoke as if the scene in her room that morning had been the first storm to mar a honeymoon of otherwise complete happiness.

Chris let down the window with a run and looked out.