"We'll wait until Sunday. April Fool's Day, Leila. We'll tell him, and he will think it's a joke. And when he sees how happy we are, he will know we were right."
So like children they refused to let the thought of the future mar the joy of the present.
Once they rested on a fallen log in a little grove of trees. The wind had died down, and the air was warm, with the still warmth of a Southern spring. Between the trees they could see a ribbon of white road which wound up to a shadowy church.
"The minister's house is next to the church," Barry told her; "in a half hour from now you'll be mine, Leila. And no one can take you away from me."
In the wonder of that thought they were silent for a time, then:
"How strange it will seem to be married, Barry."
"It seems the most natural thing in the world to me. But there will be those who will say I shouldn't have let you."
"I let myself. It wasn't you. Did you want my heart to break at your going, Barry?"
For a moment he held her in his arms, then he kissed her, gently, and let her go. When they came back this way, she would be his wife.
The old minister asked few questions. He believed in youth and love; the laws of the state were lenient. So with the members of his family for witnesses, he declared in due time that this man and woman were one, and again they went forth into the moonlight.