“No, I don’t know that,” she said, drooping her head, suddenly self-conscious.

“Do you realize that by this time tomorrow we shall be out at sea,” he added, “leaning on the rail—­watching the Pacific race by—­and belonging to each other forever and ever?”

The picture flooded her face with happy colour.  “It’s tomorrow at last!” she said, wonderingly, as they walked slowly toward the house.  “I thought it would never be.  It’s only a few hours more now.”

“How will you feel when it’s to-day?” he asked.

“Oh, Peter, I shall be so glad when it’s all over, and when the letters are written, and when we’ve been together for a year,” she answered, fervently.  “I know it will be all as we have planned, but—­but if it were over!”

They had reached the side door now, and were mounting the three steps together.

“Be patient until tomorrow,” he whispered.

“Oh,” she said softly, “I shan’t breathe until tomorrow.”

Leaning across her to push back the light screen door, he found himself face to face with Alix.  In the dark entryway Peter and Cherry had not seen her, had not heard her move.  Peter cursed his carelessness; he could not remember, in the utter confusion of the moment, just what he and Cherry had said, but if it was of a betraying nature, they had betrayed themselves.  One chance in a hundred that she had not heard!

Yet, if she was acting, she was acting superbly.  Cherry had turned scarlet and had given him an open glance of consternation, but Alix did not seem to see it.  She addressed Peter, but when he found himself physically unable to answer, she continued the conversation with no apparent consciousness of his stumbling effort to appear natural.

“There you are!  Are we going to have any tennis?  It’s after two o’clock now.”

“Two seventeen,” Martin said, following her out of the house and slipping his big watch back into his pocket.  They all gathered in one of the reclaimed garden paths, assuming a deep interest in the time.

“I had no idea it was so late,” Peter said.

“I knew it was getting on,” Cherry added, utterly at random.

“Go in and tell the boy we won’t be back until tomorrow,” Martin suggested to his wife.  “Unless you told him, Alix?” he added, turning toward her.

“I beg your pardon?” Her face was very pale, and she started as if from deep thought as she spoke.

“You could all come down here to sleep,” Cherry said, “and have breakfast here!”

“I have to go into town rather early tomorrow,” Peter remarked.  “Porter’s giving a breakfast at the Bohemian Club.”

“Why not walk up to the cabin?” Cherry suggested in a shaking voice.

“I have to take the car up.  You three walk!  Come on, anybody who wants to ride!” Alix said.

“They can walk,” Martin said, getting into the front seat.  “Me for the little old bus!”