"They will never be far enough for that, Will is too generous and Linnet will never find anything to differ about; do you know, Marjorie, that girl has no idea how Will loves her?"
Marjorie stopped and faced him with the utmost gravity.
"Do you know, Morris, that man has no idea how Linnet loves him?"
And then the two burst into a laugh that restored them both to the perfect understanding of themselves and each other and all the world. And after an early supper he shook hands with them all—excepting "Mother West," whom he kissed, and Marjorie, whom he asked to walk as far as "Linnet's" with him on his way to the train—and before ten o'clock was on board the Linnet, and congratulating again the bridegroom, who was still radiant, and the bride, who was not looking in the least bit homesick.
"Will," said Linnet with the weight of tone of one giving announcement to a mighty truth, "I wouldn't be any one beside myself for anything."
"And I wouldn't have you any one beside yourself for anything," he laughed, in the big, explosive voice that charmed Linnet every time afresh.
XIV.
A TALK AND ANOTHER TALK.
"Life's great results are something slow."—Howells.
Morris had said good-bye with a look that brought sorrow enough in Marjorie's eyes to satisfy him—almost, and had walked rapidly on, not once turning to discover if Marjorie were standing still or moving toward home; Mr. Holmes and Miss Prudence had promised to start out to meet her, so that her walk homeward in the starlight would not be lonely.