"All right," agreed Lottie. Charley swung the car back into Michigan, then up Michigan headed north. The air was deliciously soft and balmy for April in Chicago. They whisked up Lake Shore Drive and into Lincoln Park. Lottie was almost ashamed of the feeling of freedom, of relaxation, of exaltation that flooded her whole being. She felt alive, and tingling and light. She was smiling unconsciously. On the way back Charley drew up at the curb along the outside drive at the edge of Lincoln Park, facing the lake. They sat wordlessly for a brief space in the healing quiet and peace and darkness, with the waves lipping the stones at their feet.
"Nice," from Charley.
"Mm."
Silence again. An occasional motor sped past them in the darkness. To the south the great pier, like a monster sea-serpent, stretched its mile-length into the lake. A freighter, ore-laden, plying its course between some northern Michigan mine and an Indiana steel mill was transformed by the darkness and distance into a barge of beauty—mystic, silent, glittering.
"What are you going to do with your week, Lotta?"
"H'm? Oh! Well, there's the housecleaning——"
"Oh!" Charley slammed her fist down on the motor horn. It squawked in chorus with her protest. "If what the Bible promises is true then you're the heiress of the ages, you are."
"Heiress?"
"'The meek shall inherit the earth.'"
"I'm not meek. I'm just the kind of person that things don't happen to."