"Good morning!" came a voice from behind her. "Your body came perilously near escaping too. I am out of breath trying to catch up with you. I was glad there was water beyond, so that something could stop you!"
It was John Harcourt, every trace of last night's bad humor gone.
"Oh, good morning! Isn't this superb? I don't often sing, but this air is like wine. I think it went to my head. But then I didn't expect to have an audience this time of the morning."
"Where are the others?"
"Not up yet. They are losing the cream of the day, aren't they?" Then turning toward the water, "What place is that across the bay? It looks like quite a city."
"Petoskey. Named for an old Ottawa chief of this locality, I believe. And that place over at our right is Harbor Point."
"I noticed it last night. The lights from both places add immeasurably to the beauty of the night scene, especially the one from the lighthouse. It throws a shaft of glowing red across the water. Did you notice it? I thought I never saw anything so lovely as this bay was by moonlight."
"It is beautiful in all its phases. I have heard it likened to the Bay of Naples. Come and take a morning walk with me. What do you say? It will give you an appetite for the broiled whitefish you will have for breakfast."
"Can I go without my hat?"
"Certainly. Nobody wears hats now but old ladies and men."