"I love you," he said, "I love you. I
couldn't stay away--"
It seemed to Jean quite the most wonderful thing of all the wonderful
things that had happened, that he should be here in this old house
where her parents had come for their honeymoon--where her own honeymoon
was so soon to be--.
She saved that news for him, however. He had to tell her first of how
he had taken the wrong road after he had left Baltimore. He had gone
without his lunch to get to her quickly. No, he wasn't hungry, and he
was glad Mary Connolly was out, "I've so much to say to you."
Then, too, she delayed the telling so that he might see the farm before
darkness fell. She wrapped herself in a hooded red cloak in which he
thought her more than ever adorable.
The sun rested on the rim of the world, a golden disk under a
wind-blown sky. It was very cold, but she was warm in her red cloak,
he in his fur-lined coat and cap.
She told him about her father's honeymoon, hugging her own secret
close. "They came here, Derry, and it was in May. I wish you could
see the place in May, with all the appleblooms.
"It seems queer, doesn't it, Derry, to think of father honeymooning.
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