"I want him to know who it is."
"Oh, he'll know—such a devoted wife! Who else could it be?"
After a while the lane made a bend, and led them away from the moss; the canoe, turning to the right, left behind it the veiled forest, white and motionless. Margaret drew a long breath, she shook herself slightly, like a person who has emerged.
"You have on your jewels again," he said, as the movement caused the torch-light to draw a gleam from something in her hair.
She put up her hand as if she had forgotten what was there. "Jewels? Only a gold arrow." She adjusted it mechanically.
"Jewels enough on your hands, then. You didn't honor us with a sight of them—while you were at East Angels, I mean."
"I don't care for them; I put them on this morning before I started, because Lanse likes them."
"So do I. Unwillingly, you also please me; of course I never dreamed that I should have so much time to admire them—parading by torch-light in this way through a great morass."
She did not answer.
"They bring you out, you know, in spite of yourself—drag you out, if you like better; they show what you might be, if you would ever—let yourself go."