"Dear," she said later when their conversation assumed an intelligible form, "you must send those bonds back by Uncle Appleton. Just think—your father thinks you stole them!"
The man smiled:
"Yes, poor old dad. It must be kind of rough on him to think his son is a thief. He was sore that morning, and so was I, and we didn't part the best of friends. But I would rather return the bonds myself. Darling, we will take them to him, you and I, next summer, when we go back to the old town."
"Go back!" exclaimed the girl.
"Sure. When we go back on our honeymoon. Now that I have you I am never, never going to let you go, and when next you see the big burg, you will be Mrs. Bill Carmody."
He kissed the serious blue eyes that looked up into his.
"But, dear, we are coming back here?"
"Back here!" he exclaimed in surprise. "You! Back here! In the woods!"
The girl nodded.
"I love the woods; I will always love them. It was in the woods that you found yourself and your place among men. And it was in the woods that I found you—the real you—the you I have always loved!"