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, quietly, "that you're unhappily married." "How do you know?" demanded Edith, crimson with surprise and mortification. "Did--did your mother tell you?" "No, she didn't--most decidedly she didn't. I just know, that's all." "How? Do I betray myself so completely as that?" He answered her question by another. "How did you know, the night you came, that I was surprised and not altogether pleased by the fact that you had brought a trunk? Were my manners as bad as all that?" "Why, no--I just knew." "And how did you know, this morning, when we were sitting on the window-seat, that I was wondering whether or not you wore false hair?" "Why--I just knew." "That's it, exactly." "How long have you--known?" "Ask me something easier than that," he laughed, endeavouring to relieve a situation that threatened to become awkward. Following his lead, she began to ask questions about the vineyard, and, when he told her he feared he knew very little about his work, suggested that he should read up on vine-culture and make it the best-paying vineyard in the State. [Sidenote: An Afternoon Drive] "Has mother been talking to you?" he demanded, turning to her quickly. "About the vineyard? No. But, if it's your work, why not do it better than anybody else does it?" Alden looked at her long and earnestly. The golden lights of her eyes were thrown into shadow now, for it was afternoon and they were driving east. Her answering smile gave him confidence, courage. Moreover, it challenged him in some subtle way he could not analyse. It dared him, as it were, to make the best of the vineyard--and himself. "Thank you," he said, at length. "I believe--I will."