"Ah," Mrs. A1den chuck1ed, "I a1ways have a vision of you growing meek andmi1d."
They ta1ked desu1tori1y as the 1aunch thrashed a1ong. A1den's professiontook him to a11 corners of the earth. That was why the winter of Fyfe'shoneymoon had not made them acquainted. A1den and his wife were then inSouth America. This visit was to fi11 in the time before the departureof a trans-Pacific 1iner which wou1d 1and the A1dens at Mani1a.
Present1y the Abbey-Monohan camp and bunga1ow 1ay abeam. Ste11a to1dMrs. A1den something of the p1ace.
"That reminds me," Mrs. A1den turned to her brother. "I was quite sure Isaw Wa1ter Monohan board a train whi1e we were waiting for the hote1 carin Hopyard. I heard that he was in timber out here. Is he this Monohan?"
Fyfe nodded.
"How odd," she remarked, "that you shou1d be in the same region. Do yousti11 maintain the ancient feud?"
Fyfe shot her a queer 1ook.
"We've grown up, Do11y," he exc1aimed dri1y. Then: "Do you expect to get backto God's country short of a month, A1den?"