re all she had been able to
make herself write.

[Sidenote: On the Way to the Post-Office]

After luncheon, when Alden assisted her into Madame's decrepit phaeton,
and urged the superannuated horse into a wildly exciting pace of three
miles an hour, she asked to be driven to the post-office.

"Thank you," said Alden, "for alluding to it as a drive. It's more like
a walk."

"It isn't exactly like going out in a touring car," she admitted, "but
it's very pleasant, nevertheless. It gives you time to look at the
scenery."

"Also to photograph it if you should so desire. You don't even need to
limit yourself to snap-shots. A time-exposure is altogether possible."

When they reached the post-office, Alden took her note, and went through
the formality of tying the horse. He glanced at the superscription, not
because he was interested in her unknown correspondent, but because the
handwriting claimed his attention. Through the delicate angular tracery
he made out the address: "Mr. William G. Lee." The street and number
were beyond his skill in the brief time he had at his command.

"So," he said, when he came back, "you're Mrs. William G. I trust you
don't call him 'William'?"

[Sidenote: Mrs. William G.]

"No--he's the sort of William who is always known as 'Billy.'"

"Good! That speaks well for him."

Alden began to wonder, as he alternately coaxed and threatened the horse
toward the river-road, what manner of man she had married. Someone,
undoubtedly, with the face and figure of Apollo, the courtesy of
Chesterfield, and the character of a saint. "It was good of him," he
said, gratefully, "to let you come to us."

Edith bit her lips and turned her face away. "I was glad to come," she
answered, after a pause. For a moment she trembled upon the verge of a
confidence, then summoned all her conversational powers to the rescue.

She began with the natural beauty of the country through which they were
driving, observed that the roads were better adapted to a horse than to
an automobile, noted the pleasant situation of the Marsh house on the
river shore, veered for a moment to the subject of good roads in France,
came back to the blue reflection of the sky upon the smooth surface of
the river, admired the situation of the vineyard, said that Madame's
phaeton was extremely comfortable, and concluded by asking if it wasn't
almost time for apple-blossoms.

[Sidenote: "I Just Knew!"]

"All of which means," said Alden,