was her own delicious secret, this adopting of
her bridal color. Other brides might be married in white, but she had
been different--her gown had been the color of the great gold moon that
had lighted their way. What a wedding journey it had been--and how she
and Barry would laugh over it in the years to come!

For the tragedy which had weighed so heavily began now to seem like a
happy comedy. In a few weeks she would see Barry, in a few weeks all
the world would know that she was his wife!

So she packed her fragrant boxes--so she embroidered, and sang, and
dreamed.

Barry had written that he was "making good"; and that when she came he
would tell Gordon. And the General should go on to Germany, and he and
Leila would have their honeymoon trip.

"You must decide where we shall go," he had said, and Leila had planned
joyously.

"Dad and I motored once into Scotland, and we stopped at a little town
for tea. Such a queer little story-book town, Barry, with funny houses
and with the streets so narrow that the people leaned out of their
windows and gossiped over our heads, and I am sure they could have
shaken hands across. There wasn't even room for our car to turn
around, and we had to go on and on until we came to the edge of the
town, and there was the dearest inn. We stopped and stayed that
night--and the linen all smelled of lavender, and there was a sweet
dumpling of a landlady, and old-fashioned flowers in a trim little
garden--and all the hills beyond and a lake. Let's go there, Barry; it
will be beautiful."

They planned, too, to go into lodgings afterward in London.

The thought of lodgings gave Leila a thrill. She hunted out her fat
little volume of Martin Chuzzlewit and gloated over Ruth Pinch and her
beef-steak pie. She added two or three captivating aprons to the
contents of the fragrant boxes. She even bought a cook-book, and it
was with a sigh that she laid the cook-book away when Barry wrote that
in such lodgings as he would choose the landlady would serve their
meals in the sitting-room. And this plan would give Leila more time to
see the sights of London!

But what cared Little-Lovely Leila for seeing sights? Anybody could
see sights--any dreary and dried-up fossil, any crabbed and cranky old
maid--the Tower and Westminster Abbey were for those who had nothing
better to do. As for herself, her horizon just now was bounded by
primrose wreaths and fragrant boxes, and the promise of s