"

With that he had stood aside with a curious humbleness, had gripped the
hand that she had given him and had gone downstairs and away.

The country round Peapack was in its first glorious flush of young
beauty. The green of everything dazzled under the sun. The woods were
full of the echo of fairy laughter. Wild flowers ran riot among the
fields. Delicate-footed May was following on the heels of April with
its slight fingers full of added glory for the earth.

There was something soft and English in the look of the trees and
fields as they came nearer to the old house. They might have been
driving through the kind garden of Kent.

Framed in the fine Colonial doorway stood the tall old man with his
white head and fireless eyes, the little distinguished woman still
charged with electricity and the two veteran dogs with their hollow
barks.

"Not one blushing bride, but two," said Grandmother Ludlow. "How
romantic." She presented her cheek to the nervous Mrs. Harley. "You
look years younger, my dear. Quite fluttery and foolish. How do you do,
Mr. Harley? You are very welcome, Sir." She passed them both on to the
old man and turned to Joan with the kind of smile that one sees on the
faces of Chinese gods. "And here is our little girl in whose marvellous
happiness we have all rejoiced."

Joan stood up bravely to the little old lady whose sarcasm went home
like the sharp point of a rapier.

"How do you do, dear Grandmamma," she said.

"No better than can be expected, my love, but no worse." The queer
smile broadened. "But surely you haven't torn yourself away from the
young husband from whom, I hear, you have never been parted for a
moment? That I can't believe. People tell me that there has never been
such a devoted and love-sick couple. Martin Gray is driving another
car, of course."

Joan never flicked an eyelash. She would rather die than let this
cunning old lady have the satisfaction of seeing that she had drawn
blood. "No, Grandmamma," she said. "Martin needed exercise and is
playing golf at Shinnecock. He rang me up this morning and asked me to
say how sorry he was not to have the pleasure of seeing you this time."
She went over to her grandfather and held up a marvellously equable
face.

The old dame watched her with reluctant admiration. The child had all
the thoroughbred points of a Ludlow. All the same she should be shown
that, even in the twentieth century, young girls could not break away
from dis