She looked up at me and smiled: "Love is enough, Ted," she said softly—and we both remembered the old clearing by the wood back of Deep Harbor, where we had read William Morris together.
Chapter Thirteen
WE ARRIVE AND LOOK FORWARD TO ANOTHER ARRIVAL
My father, mother, and sifter met the steamer train at Euston. We tumbled out of our compartment a little breathless over the prospect of another ordeal. We seemed hopelessly mixed up with luggage and steamer acquaintances saying good-byes, when I saw my father pushing through the crowd toward us. He hardly looked at me; it was Helen he wanted to see. My mother and sister were close behind. It gave me quite a shock to note that my sister had her hair up and was wearing long dresses. She looked almost as old as Helen, as indeed she was. The family kissed Helen thoroughly, and my sister clung tenaciously to me. I couldn't think of much to say, except "Well, here we are."
"What a frightful Yankee twang you have, Ted," exclaimed my sister. We made our way toward one of the London and North Western's private omnibuses.
"Ted! Please don't forget our trunks," Helen cautioned, as I was about to climb in. My father went with me to the luggage van, a porter following. We left Helen chattering away at mother and sister as if there were no such thing in the world as embarrassment.
"I like the look of her, Ted," my father said.
"I'm not surprised," I answered, trying to imitate one of Knowlton's grins. We fished out the trunks and started back.
"Pleasant passage?" my father inquired. "Helen wasn't seasick, I hope."