' suggested 'Pork', but 'Pork' isn't a name.
'Pork' suggested 'Beans'. And once more behold the survival of the
fittest."

Desire laughed.

The professor listened to her laugh with a strained expression which
relaxed when no words followed it.

"I was afraid," he admitted penitently, "that you might want to know
why 'Pork' is not as much a name as 'Beans'."

"But--it isn't."

"Quite so. Only you are the first member of your delightful sex who has
ever perceived it. You are a perceptive person, Mrs. Spence."

It was the fourth day of their Business Honeymoon. Four days ago they
had landed from the cheerful little coast steamer whose chattering load
of summer campers they had left behind on the route. For four
sun-bright days and dew-sweet nights they had found themselves sole
possessors of a bay so lovely that it seemed to have emerged bodily
from a green and opal dream.

"'Friendly Bay,' they calls it," a genial deckhand told them, grinning.
"But you folks will be the only friends anywheres about. There's a sort
of farm across the point, though, and maybe you could hit the trail by
climbing, if you get too fed up with the scenery."

"Oh, we shan't want any company," said the new Mrs. Spence
innocently--a remark so disappointing in its unembarrassed frankness
that the deck-hand lost interest and decided that they were "just
relations" after all.

They had carried their camp with them, and, from where they now sat,
they could see its canvas gleaming ivory white against its background
of green. Desire's eyes, as she raised them from her name-building,
lingered upon it proudly. It was such a wonderful camp!--her first
experience of what money, unconsidered save as a purchasing agent, can
do. Even her personal outfit was something of a revelation. How
deliciously keen and new was this consciousness of clothes--the smart
high-laced boots, the soft, sand-colored coat and skirt, the knickers
which felt so easy and so trim, the cool, silk shirt with its wide
collar, the dainty, intimate things beneath! She would have been less
than woman, had the possession of these things failed to meet some
need,--some instinct, deep within, which her old, bare life had daily
mortified.

And it had all been so easy, so natural! How could she ever have
hesitated to make the change? Even her pride was left to her, intact.
He, her friend, had given and she had taken, but in this there had been
no spoiling sense of obligation, for, p