“Here, let me do that,” Peter exclaimed.  Alix remarking that she would turn the car so that she might later start on the grade, disappeared, and the two were alone with their arms full of the stiff and fragrant cleanness of the linen in the sweetness of the afternoon.

“Just—­just fold them roughly,” stammered Cherry, hardly conscious of what she was saying, “and put them in the basket—­”

Peter did not hear the words.  But he heard the wonderful voice; he saw the red sweetness of the mouth, saw the quick glances of the averted eyes, the white neck with its film of gold hair blowing across it.

He murmured something inarticulate in reply, trying to control the great wave of happiness and emotion that rose over him.  They were together again, after what a night—­and what a day!—­and that was all that mattered.  They spoke confusedly, in brief monosyllables, and were silent, their hands touching on the line, their eyes meeting only furtively and briefly.

“Can you walk up to the cabin with me?” Peter asked.  “I want so much to speak to you.  Everything’s all arranged for tomorrow.  I’ve got tickets and reservations.  Your suitcase is checked in the Oakland ferry waiting-room.  All you have to think of is yourself.  Now, in case of missing the boat again—­which isn’t conceivable, but we must be ready for anything!—­I shall go straight to the club.  You must telephone me there.  Just go off to-night quietly, get as much sleep as you can, and keep your wits about you.”

“Tell me our plans again,” Cherry faltered.

“It’s perfectly simple,” he said, giving her anxious face a concerned glance.  “You are going to the Olivers’.  I go in, in the morning, presumably for the Porter breakfast, but really to get your suitcase and my own and get to the boat.  I shall be there at half-past ten.  You get there well before eleven—­you won’t see me.  But go straight on board, and ask for Mrs. Joyce’s cabin.  Wait for me there!”

“But—­but suppose you don’t come!”

“I’ll be there before you.  It is better for us not to meet upstairs.  But to be sure, I’ll telephone you at Minna Oliver’s at about nine o’clock tomorrow morning.  I’ll just tell you that I’m on my way and that everything is all right!  Have you your heavy coat?”

“I will have,” she answered.  “I’ve not got much in the suitcase,” she added with an enchanting flush.

“You shall buy more in New Orleans on Tuesday,” he promised her.  “I’ve made no plans beyond that.”

“A hat?” Cherry asked, with uplifted, silky lashes giving a childish look to her blue eyes.

Peter, tightening his fingers on hers, gave a great, joyous laugh of utter surprise and adoration, as, leaning toward her, he caught her bashful murmur.

“You need that?” he whispered.

“Well—­most” she answered, seriously.

“Do you realize,” he asked, “that you are the most delicious child that ever lived?”