She had just loosened a whole tangle of wreckage, and had straightened herself up with a long, triumphant "Ah-h!" of relief, as the current rushed it away, when a shadow fell over the mouth of the cave. Looking about in quick, instinctive fear, she saw Warren Gregory smiling at her.
For only one second she hesitated, all girlhood's radiant shyness in her face. Then she was in his arms, and clinging to him, and for a few minutes they did not speak, eyes and lips together in the wild rapture of meeting.
"Oh, Greg--Greg--Greg!" Rachael laughed and cried and sang the words together. "When did you come, and how did you get here? Tell me--tell me all about it!" But before he could begin to answer her their eager joy carried them both far away from all the conversational landmarks, and again they had breath only for monosyllables, instinct only to cling to each other.
"My girl, my own girl!" Warren Gregory said. "Oh, how I've missed you--and you're more beautiful than ever--did you know it? More beautiful even than I remembered you to be, and that was beautiful enough!"
"Oh, hush!" she said, laughing, her fingers over the mouth that praised her, his arm still holding her tight.
"I'll never hush again, my darling! Never, never in all the years we spend together! I am going to tell you a hundred times a day that you are the most beautiful, and the dearest--Oh, Rachael, Rachael, shall I tell you something? It's October! Do you know what that means?"
"Yes, I suppose I do!" She laughed, and colored exquisitely, drawing herself back the length of their linked arms.
"Do you know what you're going to BE in about thirty-six hours?"
"Now--you embarrass me! Was--was anything settled?"
"Shall you like being Mrs. Gregory?"